SNAPSHOTS 

5UNNY 
AFRICA 



HELENE- 
SPRINGEP>^3 




Class _IiT^Jlf 
Book- 3 I i 



Gopiglttl^". 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 




MRS. JOHN M. SPRINGER 



SNAP SHOTS 

FROM 

SUNNY AFRICA 



By 
MRS. JOHN M. SPRINGER 




New York Chicago Toronto 

Fleming H. Revell Company 

London and Edinburgh 



Copyright, 1909, by 
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 






New York: 158 Fifth Avenue 
Chicago: 80 Wabash Avenue 
Toronto: 25 Richmond Street, W. 
London: 21 Paternoster Square 
Edinburgh: 100 Princes Street 



stmrli 

Jill 27 1909 



To 

My Mother 

who 

Gave her only child 

to 

Africa 



INTRODUCTION 

GEI^EEAL E. S. S. BADEN-POWELL, of 
the English army, for years a distinguished 
soldier and traveller in South Africa, in his 
Foreword to ^'Sonie African Highways,'' a recent 
interesting book by Caroline Kirkland, says : — 

" How I should like to be a woman ! It must be 
nice to lie back in your cushions and watch the men 
doing things which they think very clever, knowing 
all the time that you can do them much better your- 
self if you only care to try. 

'^For instance: I am convinced that if women 
were to take up the art of scouting they would easily 
beat men at the game. 

"They have a greater natural gift of observation 
and a most uncannily clever knack of * putting this 
and that together ' and then deducing meaning from 
the smallest signs. 

" Hence it comes that when women travel into the 
lesser-known countries of the world, as they fre- 
quently do nowadays, they bring this power of ob- 
servation into play with remarkable results. And of 
all women in the world I would place our American 
cousins at the top of the list for this particular 
quality. 

"Unfortunately it is only too seldom that they 
record their impressions, but when they do their 

7 



8 Introduction 

pages ripple with little touches both quaint and 
human which are the direct result of quick observa- 
tion and which go to paint the character of the coun- 
tries and people far more vividly than the more 
erudite writings of the mere man who plods along 
basing his remarks very largely on what he has 
already read or been told of the country now spread 
out before them.'' 

These short stories by Mrs. Springer are a good 
illustration of General Baden-PowelFs estimate of 
American women as intelligent travellers, able to 
put their observations into up-to-date, vigorous 
English. 

The pictures are from actual life during several 
years of residence and travel in Africa, and have 
been written with the purpose of aiding those espe- 
cially interested in the redemption of that continent 
to understand better the conditions of the people and 
the missionary labours among them. 

Any of these "Snapshots" would be excellent 
reading in meetings of the Woman's Foreign Mis- 
sionary Society, of Epworth Leagues, or of Sunday- 
schools, where Africa is the theme. They could not 
fail to arrest the attention and fix the thought of 
those who hear them upon the pagan heathenism 
which now enthralls more than one hundred million 
of the people of that great continent. 

Joseph C. Haktzell. 



PREFACE 

IT was about a year ago that we sat at lunch one 
day with Bishop Hartzell in one of the crowded 
restaurants of New York when the Bishop sud- 
denly remarked, "Mrs. Springer, I think it would be 
an excellent thing for you to collect and work over 
into book form the many stories and articles which 
have been appearing from your pen during the past 
five years.'' 

It was not a new thought. On leaving Africa, 
Mr. Springer has insisted on bringing all my old 
MSS. along with us to America for this very purpose. 
But so far I had not felt that I could work them up 
into readable matter. Nor did the Bishop's sugges- 
tion convince me. 

But as I travelled about speaking almost constantly, 
I saw that there was a need of some book of short 
missionary stories which could be used in meetings 
of the Woman's Foreign Missionary Society, Ep worth 
Leagues, Christian Endeavours, Sunday-schools and 
all other missionary meetings for which it is often so 
difficult to arrange a live and interesting program. 

Last fall I seemed to be providentially laid aside 
from platform work for three months and it also 
seemed as if that were God's time for me to take up 
this work of writing. 

The title is meant to be a true indication of the 
character of the book. It is not a history of our 
work in Ehodesia, but a collation of such a variety 
of incidents of that work that I trust the whole book 
will give the reader an insight to the real life and 

9 



lo Preface / 

work of a missionary just as the amateur snap-shot 
photo album reveals more of the everyday lives of 
its subjects than the most finished productions of the 
studio. 

The chapters are purposely short and each one is a 
complete story in itself, and yet there is a line of con- 
tinuity throughout the whole book. I have given 
the real names of our native helpers in order that the 
reader may become acquainted with them as they 
appear and reappear in the various chapters. These 
chapters are not arranged in chronological order but 
are grouped in reference to subjects so that when 
desired, two or three persons may read a chapter each 
at a single meeting. 

The articles which had been already printed were 
all rewritten, the incidents being brought down to 
date, while many entirely new chapters were added on 
subjects about which I was most frequently questioned. 

As Mr. Springer has so fully described our trip 
across the continent in his book, " The Heart of Cen- 
tral Africa," which was published this spring by 
Jennings and Graham, I have only touched upon it, 
enlarging upon some incidents which he was com- 
pelled to treat rather briefly and from his viewpoint. 

So this little volume goes forth with the writer's 
prayer that it may not only be helpful to individuals, 
but that also it may be of especial service in many a 
missionary meeting where it may make real to the 
hearers the joys, the successes, the sorrows and the 
failures and discouragements, but withal the actual 
conditions of our every- day missionary work. 

Helen E. Spkingee. 
Chicago^ III 



CONTENTS 



L 


Striking the Trail . 


. 15 


II. 


Attending a Native Dance . 


20 


III. 


Physician to the King . 


. 24 


IV. 


The Passing of Ufambasiku . 


. 30 


V. 


The Making of a Dictionary . 


. 35 


VI. 


The Bantu and Their Languages 


. 39 


VII. 


Difficulties of an Unknown Tongui 


: 43 


VIII. 


Down the Ages 


. 48 


IX. 


Shakeni 


. 52 


X. 


Her First Vacation 


. 57 


XI. 


For Christian Burial 


. 61 


XII. 


Our Last Night — Trekking by Ox 






Wagon 


; 65 


XIII. 


In the Hundi Valley 


71 


XIV. 


What's in a Name ? . 


7^ 


XV. 


An African Vanity Fair 


82 


XVI. 


On the Trail to Tete . 


87 


XVII. 


A Tale of Two Donkeys 


92 


XVIII. 


The Glorious Fourth in Africa . 


98 


XIX. 


Christmas at Old Umtali 


103 


XX. 


When Greek Meets Greek 


109 


XXI. 


Buying a Trousseau 


113 


XXII. 


Mukonyerwa 


118 



II 



12 



Contents 



XXIII. Kaduku, the Little One 

XXIV. Sunday at Gandanzara's 

XXV. Watapa's Wedding 

XXVI. Sweet Sixteen 

XXVII. To Be or Not to Be . 
XXVIIL Perpetual Blisters 

XXIX. Bicycling in Central Africa 

XXX. The Buffalo at the 501 2th Ant 

Hill .... 

XXXI. The Land of Sour Mush 

XXXII. Sour Mush and Sweet Jam 

XXXIII. The Soul of a Chicken 

XXXIV. John Webba . 

XXXV. Tried as by Fire . 

XXXVI. After Many Days 



124 

133 
139 
145 
148 

153 
157 

162 
165 
170 

173 
179 

183 
190 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facing page 

Mrs. John M. Springer . . o . . Title 

The Three. Gumba, Shakeni and Basi . . 22 

Mt. Hartzell at Old Umtali .... 35 

Travelling by Ox Wagon 87 

On the Trail to Tete 87 

The First White Wedding at Old Umtali Mis- 
sion 103 

The Belles OF the Capitol . . . .118 

Female Adornments in Native Styles . .145 

Camp Near the " 5012TH " Ant-Hill . . .157 

KIanshanshi Copper Mine in N. W. Rhodesia, 

Africa . 157 

Women Pounding Grain 167 

A Hand Grist Mill 167 



n 



Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 



I 

STRIKING THE TRAIL 

PEEHAPS it was not such an unpardonable 
crime after all which my Mend committed 
that blustering May day when he took the 
snap shot that so nearly ruptured our social relations. 
Looking back on it with a long perspective and con- 
sidering the great satisfaction with which on a later 
day I more than rewarded him for his untiring ef- 
forts to secure photographical ^^ studies," I am con- 
vinced that his was a venial sin. 

In fact I'm almost sorry that no copy of the dis- 
puted, hotly disputed, print is in existence. It must 
have been a grotesque figure, clad in a short skirt, 
stout, well-worn boots, heavy gloves and a large six- 
penny Madeira hat securely tied down over the ears 
on account of the high winds, which went out of Old 
Umtali that day to enjoy the new experience of liv- 
ing in a native kraal alone. 

Nor were the other three members of the little 
caravan with her less appealing to the risibles. 
There was Shakeni, young and beautiful, gracefully 
balancing a candle box on her head, never touching 
it with her hands except when the unhappy occupant, 

15 



1 6 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

who for the most part crouched in one corner in ab- 
ject terror, suddenly gave a plunge to the other side 
emitting at the same time one of his unearthly feline 
yowls. 

There were also two half-grown youths, one of 
whom carried blankets and clothing, and the other a 
box in which were a few cooking utensils and some 
raw material to be used in them. I was indebted to 
my friend Heinkel for these men, — if such you could 
call them. Two more dilapidated specimens would 
have been hard to find. He admitted that they had 
not been selected by him on account of personal 
beauty nor muscular strength, but for the reason so 
many other things are done out there, — they were 
all he had. 

That first year (and ever after for that matter) but 
particularly in that first year, I had good reason to 
be thankful that I was a good walker. What with 
red water killing the oxen, horse sickness the horses 
and mules, and pyemia wiping out whole spans of 
donkeys in the country, it was quite the style for all 
but the very wealthy to walk for the good of their 
health and the regulation of their livers. 

So on this morning, I started out to make my seven 
mile walk with gratitude that it was not ten. There's 
nothing truly so bad in this world that it might not 
be worse. But the last three miles that day, as the 
sun rose to the zenith, were hot and toilsome ones, 
though I would not have acknowledged to my fellow 
missionary who met me at Shikanga's kraal how 
weary I was, no not for anything. 

It was noon and he was expecting me, as he had 
been engaged for a week in getting a hut built for me 



Striking the Trail 17 

there. So dinner was soon served. I was hungry as 
well as weary. There was no place for us to eat ex- 
cept out in the open, as the women were just finishing 
the floor of the hut I was to occupy and he was using 
a tiny tent. So we sat down on a big rock in the 
centre of the village and were soon served with bully 
beef and hot tea. 

Bully, or, as it is commercially known, corned beef, 
I loathed. And as we were soon surrounded by some 
twenty nearly naked youngsters in indescribable states 
of filthiness, I began to realize that after all, I did not 
care for anything to eat, but was merely thirsty. And 
the tea ! The water with which to make it came from 
a spring where all the natives got their water ; and was 
an opaque, grayish white, so that unless it were la- 
belled, it was hard to tell whether the decoction was 
tea or coffee. 

Standing on decorum, I said nothing of the turmoils 
going on in the internal regions. Had I done so, I 
might have been favoured with the advice which in 
recent years has come to be quite a family motto : 
^^ Cheer up, the worst is to come.'' But we were both 
on our good behaviour, and neither liked to admit to 
the other how horribly repulsive everything was. 
We feared our missionary devotion might be called 
in question. Bless you ! Devotion had nothing to 
do with it. We were only natural human beings, 
neither deprived of sight, nor taste, nor smell. We 
needed stronger stomachs and we got them, — in time. 

But the worst was to come. Shikanga greeted me 
most graciously and welcomed me to her kraal most 
hospitably. And as a token of that hospitality, when 
she cooked her evening meal, she sent me over a por- 



i8 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

tion. It was a large, brown ball with some ques- 
tionable looking greens accompanying it. 

The new missionary, though he has nothing of this 
world's goods, is certain to be rich in theories. I 
was wealthy along that line and that alone. With 
sugar and flour at twenty-four cents a pound, butter 
seventy-five cents, cabbages $1.25, eggs at $5 a dozen, 
I was convinced that unless I could have a more suc- 
cessful experiment on green sawdust than the Irish- 
man's horse, I must get used to ^' native diet.'' 

It sounded well — at home. But here I was in 
touch with it. Now, as I had not overloaded my 
stomach at noon, I was ready for something substan- 
tial by night. There could not have been a more 
opportune time to start in on the native diet. There 
was the added advantage that it was dark, and the 
glimmering light of the one flickering candle did not 
reveal the unpleasant features of the midday. Every- 
thing was in the favour of the thick mush known to 
the natives as sadsa. 

It would not yield itself to the friendly offices of a 
knife. The sadsa, which for centuries had known 
only the manipulations of human fingers, gripped and 
clung to and followed the knife until it won out, and 
the knife was vanquished. A spoon did a little bet- 
ter. I managed to get off a small portion of mush 
on the spoon and then tried to chew it only to learn 
to my sorrow that it was not meant to be chewed. 
But having started, I had to exceed the Gladstonian 
count before I had extricated my teeth and cleared 
my mouth. 

However, I tried again and again, on the theory 
that practice makes perfect ; and at last managed 



Striking the Trail 19 

to get enough down to satisfy the cravings of my 
stomach. My appetite had been satisfied on the first 
mouthful. The next morning (having been raised on 
fried corn-meal mush up in Maine) I felt sure that I 
could overcome my doughty adversary. I had it 
fried. When it was served, it looked less appetizing 
than before and proved stickier than ever. It would 
not go down. 

When I sent the dilapidated carriers back to my 
friend, I wrote, '^ And if you can manage it, I shall 
be glad to have a loaf of bread when the carriers come 
again." And he faithfully supplied me with bread 
the likes of which it seemed I'd never seen before nor 
ever since, during all those two months in the kraals, 
and without it, I could not have stayed and kept in 
health. 

Mr. Springer, who had built the hut, went away 
and I was for the first time in my life left alone in a 
heathen kraal. I confess now, what I would not have 
admitted then for worlds, that I did feel afraid. And 
had I known of the dance that was on for that night, 
I should have been still more afraid. Ignorance in 
that case was bliss. But He that watched over Israel 
neither slumbered nor slept ; and so no harm came 
to me. 



n 

ATTENDING A NATIVE DANCE 

I^M a good Methodist — don't believe in dancing. 
It^s a heathenish practice brought down from, 
time immemorial and always has been connected 
with bad habits and worse results. 

It was noon on Saturday when Basi came in and 
said, "There's to be a dance here to-night and 
mother would like you to go.'' 

I gave her a non-committal answer and decided I 
would find some excuse for staying away when the 
evening came. 

However, in that case I reckoned without my host- 
ess. I learned very soon my mistake. Whoso goes 
to live in the kraals to achieve good results must 
needs take the chief into account and that right often. 

At six-thirty, Basi, Shikanga's daughter came in 
again and said, ' ' Shikanga says for you to come to 
the dance now." 

There was no escape for me. 

Basi led the way to a hut only a few yards from my 
own, inside which could be heard the sounds of revelry. 
"With difficulty, I stooped under the low eaves and 
entered through the tiny hole in the wall of the hut 
which can only by courtesy be called a door. 

Owing to the fact that the walls of native huts are 
plastered with mud within and without, the eaves of 
the roofs extend to within a short distance of the 
ground all the way round. 

20 



Attending a Native Dance 21 

Now to enter the door, it was neceasary to stoop 
under this low roof, the stakes of which frequently- 
caught in my dress just between the shoulders, bring- 
ing me up with a jerk. The shock was equally try- 
ing to my nerves and disposition so that I afterwards 
remarked to Mr. Springer that I was certain those 
roofs had so effectually scraped off my wings that 
they surely never would grow again. 

What a sight ! On the one side sat the women 
apart from the men packed in as thick as sardines. 
On the other side was the big drum and a goodly 
number of the men. At the rear was Shikanga who 
was expecting me. 

As I entered, she arose gracefully and beckoned me 
to her side, the seat of honour, on a mat exclusively 
for her Majesty's use. It is hard to understand how 
any space could have been reserved in that small hut 
in which was gathered not only the people of that one 
kraal but from all the surrounding kraals. 

The village blacksmith was exercising his brawny 
muscles on the drum and the effect was deafening. 
Just in front of the door was another small space into 
which a young buck by the name of Shilling suddenly 
jumped. He had worked at the mission ; and being 
a very graceful dancer, was anxious to show off his 
skill before me. 

I was too new in the language to understand much 
of his song which he acted out as he went along. 
Now his motions were rhythmical, then they took a 
crescendo and the fortissimo was marked by leaps 
into the air of so vigorous a character as to remind 
me of David dancing before the ark. I do not doubt 
but what David's dance was on the same order ais 



22 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

Shilling's. For so long as I remained in the hut, all 
the singing and dancing were perfectly proper, as far 
as I could judge. 

When Shilling finished with a display of fine 
acrobatic feats, Shikanga took the floor. I judged 
that Shilling had recited some thrilling history of the 
people. Shikanga seemed to be giving a romance or 
a bit of folk-lore and her acting and dancing were in- 
different. 

Two or three other men danced with less skill than 
Shilling. All this time the drum kept a deafening 
accompaniment while one and another of the women 
punctuated it with a peculiar shriek made by tremo- 
loing with the hand over the mouth. The whole ef- 
fect was ear-splitting and after an hour of it, I began 
to wonder if I would be permitted to escape. 

Just then came a lull for refreshments. Several 
huge jars of native brewed beer stood near Shikanga. 
(Trust her to be near the beer every time in those 
days. ) As a gourdful of this was being passed around, 
I asked to leave as the heat had given me a headache, 
— I did not mention the smell and the sound, — and 
Shikanga gracefully bowed me out. She had done 
the duties of a hostess and was evidently decidedly 
glad to see me go. Basi, Gumba, Shikanga' s niece, 
and Shakeni went with me. 

What a night that was ! Once I was gone, the 
restraint was off, the beer flowed freely and every 
man, woman and child in that kraal except the three 
girls with me became beastly drunk. It seemed like 
a night in the infernal regions. Twice Shikanga 
came to my door and demanded it to be opened. She 
had then reached the fighting stage and she and an- 




THE THREE 

Gumba, Shaken! and Basi 



Attending a Native Dance 23 

other woman had a fight in the doorway. The sounds 
round about the hut were fairly sickening. Most 
of the men and women were yelling like demons. It 
was simply horrible. 

With the first gray dawn of the Sabbath, the revel- 
lers came again and as the girls opened the door, 
they swarmed in, drunk but most of them silly, good- 
humoredly drunk. I managed to get into my bath 
robe but it was nearly ten before the hut was cleared 
so that I could dress. 

Yet four years later, Shikanga asked us to send her 
a teacher. She helped build a church, was converted 
and to-day over forty of her people with herself con- 
stitute a native church in her kraal. 

But even our most optimistic faith would have stag- 
gered at such a hope then. We had to learn thereby 
the truth that God^s hand is not shortened but that 
He can certainly save to the uttermost. 



m 

PHYSICIAN TO THE KING 

SHIKANGA'S slight form darkened the door- 
way. She entered, sat down on a soap box 
which served in place of a chair and took a 
pinch of snuff. She was not used to soap boxes nor 
chairs either, and the elevation somewhat embarrassed 
her. After a vigorous blowing of the nose as an 
after-effect of the snuff, she wiped her hand on her 
loin cloth, cleared her throat and began. 

As I come to know the oriental better, I marvel 
more and more at the wonderful simplicity and brev- 
ity of the Bible. Circumlocution thrives in eastern 
soil. On the present occasion Shikanga proceeded to 
set forth at length a long preamble of which I could 
only understand a little now and then. But when 
she got through the preliminaries, she announced to 
me that her father the king was very ill and she 
wanted me the Mufundisi (teacher) and Nganga 
(doctor) to go up and give him medicine. 

There were several reasons why I did not want to 
yield to her request ; one being that I felt reasonably 
safe living alone in her kraal for I was within call of 
her own hut. I knew the king^s kraal to be a 
wicked place and one in which a white woman 
might not be safe unless other white people were near. 
Even Jonas declared that he would not live there. 
There were other reasons, none of which I could 
24 



Physician to the King 25 

explain to her highness so I merely tried to put her 
off. But no, her father was sick unto death and I 
could cure him. I told her I would send him some 
medicine and by and by would go up. She seemed 
satisfied and left, and I was happy. 

Not so Shakeni ; she knew Shikanga. So she began 
to lament about the cold up at Mtasa's kraal. Then 
she went out and brought in three big logs and built 
a roaring fire, all the time bemoaning how little wood 
and how much cold there was at Mtasa's. 

There was no outlet for the smoke except at the 
door and it was soon dense enough to affect the 
hardest slab of sugar-cured bacon let alone my eyes, 
and hot enough to roast out a salamander. After 
supper I tried to write but the wind, which came in 
under the eaves, blew out the candle so I went to 
bed on the home-made couch of sticks and poles. 

That being alongside of the fire, I was worse off 
than ever. So when there was a fresh burst of lam- 
entation, I exclaimed, ''But roasting me to death 
down here will not keep you from dying with the cold 
up there, so pull some of that wood off the fire.'' 
Whereat the humorous side of the situation struck 
Shakeni and she broke into an immoderate fit of 
laughter. 

The wind blew colder and colder and the fire died 
down 5 the rats raced up and down the walls, Bobby 
chasing after them ; the bed was hard and a shower 
of borer dust fell continually from the roof, but I 
slept well in spite of all. 

Shakeni arose at daylight and no sooner had she 
opened the door to go out for kindlings, than the na- 
tives began to pour in, some with eggs, peanuts, or 



26 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

meal to sell and some for medicine. As soon as I 
could dispose of the lot, the door was securely locked 
until I had had a chance to dress. 

By eight o'clock I had treated fifteen patients of 
whom many were babies suffering horribly with ec- 
zema, their hands and feet being a mass of sores so 
that they had to be bandaged. 

Just as I had sat down to breakfast Shikanga came 
in again and took her seat on the soap box with great 
dignity, helped herself to the preliminary pinch of 
snuff, called Shakeni to come near so that I could 
surely understand what she was saying and then pro- 
ceeded in the most matter-of-fact way to tell me that 
she had engaged two carriers for my loads, and as 
soon as they had eaten, we would start for Mtasa's 
kraal, " Ku Guta," she said, which means the capital. 

By nine we were on the trail tramping towards the 
north. The paths were very slippery from the dried 
grass on them, and it was a very tired white woman 
who climbed the steep mountain late that afternoon 
after doing fourteen miles to its foot. 

After Shikanga had been to see her father, she told 
me that I had better not see him that night as her 
father had had '^ a little too much beer.'' For which 
I was glad, — not that he was drunk, but that I did 
not have to see him that day. 

So Shakeni and I slept in a little tent which I had 
made of unbleached muslin for a child's play tent. 
Early in the evening a heavy mist settled over the 
mountain and dripped through our thin shelter, trick- 
ling down in tiny streams on the inside. The girl's 
fears of cold were fully realized on that and the suc- 
ceeding nine weeks of our stay there. 



Physician to the King 27 

However she snored soundly all night at my side 
while I dozed fitfully on account of the cold and the 
wind which howled through the ravine, whistled 
through the tree tops and among the giant boulders 
threatening every moment to carry away what little 
shelter we did have. 

About nine the next morning, Shikanga came again 
and with her the king's chief counsellor, I^sebe, to 
escort me into the royal presence. Nsebe was the 
right man in the right place. He possessed all the 
affability, obsequiousness, blandishments, the easy 
grace and pleasing manners of a French courtier of 
the middle ages ; and like them, a love of intrigue 
which was in no wise hampered by a tender con- 
science. 

Through the raw, white fog which enveloped the 
mountain, and the incredible filth under our feet, we 
threaded our way in and out among the huge boul- 
ders and the little haystack-like huts, under low, 
arched ways, guarded by sentinels, over slippery 
rocks, and winding our way upward until we came to 
a very small hut under the shelter of a huge shelving 
boulder on the top of which another immense boulder 
just hung, as it were, by its eyebrows. 

Here Nsebe stopped, began to clap his hands softly 
and chant something in a dull monotone. After a 
while, there came a gruff, grumbled response from 
within and then Nsebe put his hand through an 
aperture at the side of the door, pulled out the heavy 
wooden pin which barred it on the inside and entered. 

Squatting down near the door, he told the king who 
we were and what we had come for, all the time accom- 
panying all he said by the clapping of hands. And 



28 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

this preliminary liad to be gone through every visit I 
made even though, as for weeks, I went to the king 
two or three times a day. 

This ceremony ended, he came back to the door 
and called the rest of us in. Not even Shikanga was 
permitted to enter the royal hut unceremoniously. 

The door was so small, the eaves so low (the inside 
floor being lower than the outside) that I nearly fell 
head first into the hut as I entered. Dungeon-like 
darkness prevailed and at first I could see nothing. 
Some one took my hand and placed it in the long, 
bony, outstretched one of the king. Then I saw a 
gaunt, emaciated figure sitting on a mat and recog- 
nized the king of the Manika. 

They stirred up the fire into a blaze, and one lighted 
a piece of candle I had brought along. What a sight 
that was before me ! The whole chin and upper lip 
were one putrid, sloughing sore over which the scabs 
had formed a half an inch or more in depth while odd 
sores were scattered all over his neck and body. The 
stench was sickening. 

Kneeling there in front of him, close to the now 
sizzling fire, I worked for a half hour> dressing that 
distorted face. Then I gave him some medicine and 
left, saying that I would be back at noon to give him 
more medicine and would dress the sores again at 
night. For I knew that if I left medicine with in- 
structions for it to be taken at noon, it would all be 
drunk at once. If I wanted the medicine taken regu- 
larly, I must go in person and see that it was done. 

Then I rose painfully from my cramped position 
and emerged awkwardly out into the cold, raw, misty 
day. My head reeled, my stomach heaved and what 



Physician to the King 29 

with my stiff joints and sore muscles from the previous 
day's journey, I could hardly walk. 

Did it pay ? Yes, a hundred per cent., though the 
compensation came only after many long days. 



rv 

THE PASSING OF UFAMBASIKU 

THEEE'S a new Mtasa now and a new Guta. 
When the old king died, the customs of the 
Manika led them to first spend one month 
of mourning, during which they drowned their grief 
in native brewed beer, thus using up most of the grain 
so that a famine followed. During this time the body 
of the dead chief was slowly dried and smoked over a 
fire. Then he was secretly buried, after which the 
old kraal was abandoned so that his wandering 
spirit might never be disturbed. 

Four years later, we passed through the site of the 
old kraal. It was a difficult thing to do for the weeds 
and grass had grown up into an almost impenetrable 
jungle. None of the huts were left : there were only 
a few foundations to mark the once so familiar 
ground. 

There was the huge pile of rocks which we called 
the Giant's Causeway ; there was where Ohimbadzwa's 
group of huts had stood ; there was the big, ship -like 
boulder under which Benzi was buried. Was Benzi 
really murdered? We will probably never know. 
But the wild, savage, hopeless frenzy of that funeral 
is something never to be forgotten. 

And here was where the Imp and Terror used to 
30 



The Passing of Ufambasiku 31 

play. They were bad little girls, — as bad as the 
nicknames we gave them. The Terror has long since 
been at the Old Umtali school and become a fine 
Christian girl. She may be married now. Several 
of our promising young evangelists had spoken for 
her hand two years ago. 

And there was where I held daily dispensary, 
treating dozens of patients among whom were Mu- 
ledzwa, Shikanga's sister, and her daughter Mukon- 
yerwa. She was wild too in those days, wild and 
boisterous and rough but not especially vicious. 
What a change came over her at the school ! Sorrow 
matured her and Christ reclaimed her for His very 
own. She is Stephen's wife now, a teacher to her 
own people on an out station, a woman refined, dig- 
nified and singularly attractive. 

Up yonder is the shelving rock and on it the big 
boulder still hangs by its eyebrows. It always seemed 
to me as if it needed no more than the slamming of 
the hut door to bring it crashing down. 

And there was that massive face of sheer, solid, 
unscalable rock at the back of the kraal, the cap 
stone of the mountain. Only the droves of baboons 
could get a foothold there. How they would chat- 
ter ! And I can hear again as I heard it that cold 
morning, the deep, bass ''Ha, ha, ha'^ of some big 
brute who broke the stillness with an unmistakable 
laugh. 

We made our way slowly through the masses of 
blackjacks whose seeds stuck to us until we resembled 
porcupines. It was only seven years ago that Ufam- 
basiku died and the new Mtasa, Chiobvu, his son, 
began to reign. But changes are many and rapid in 



32 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

Bhodesia so that there are probably but few left who 
remember the old Mtasa and the old Guta. 

I heard various versions of his history some of 
which agreed. Jonas gave me the most realistic re- 
cital of the usual version, before ever I went up to 
treat the king, while still at Hartzell Villa. The 
wind was wailing around the house and the one tallow 
candle in my little study flickered unsteadily, throw- 
ing long dark shadows into the hall. 

Jonas^ voice dropped almost to a whisper as he 
told how the king had been wont to visit the usurper's 
kraal ever in the night by stealth. At length he 
succeeded in getting an intrigue with one of the wives. 
It was the custom of the king to sleep in a different 
hut every night so that no enemy could find him. 
This wife agreed to tell Ufambasiku (The-one-who- 
walks-at-night) when the pseudo king came to her 
hut. 

This hut was in a seemingly inaccessible positiou 
but she, at a given signal, let down a rope up which 
the rightful successor climbed. Jonas' voice dropped 
into a tragic whisper until it died out altogether as 
he drew his hand significantly across his throat. 
And Mtasa had held the power he had so violently 
secured for about forty or fifty years, a reign of abso- 
lute despotism until the advent of the white pioneers 
in 1890. 

I had done my best to redeem the old man's diseased 
and almost decayed body. He improved rapidly at 
first. The sores on his face and head were all healed 
and he got so that he walked out. He went a mile 
or two one day. Then the witch doctor told him he 
was well. I told him he was not and that he must 



The Passing of Ufambasiku 33 

still take great care, live a clean life, stick to his 
medicine or lie would surely die. But on the strength 
of the witch doctor^ s statement, he held a council of 
his head men who passed a resolution affirming his 
complete recovery and then he had a big dance and 
a big drunk and in two weeks all the benefits of 
seven were wiped out and Mtasa^s days were surely 
numbered. 

I had had to leave him. I shall never forget the 
pain it gave me when I paid my farewell visit to him. 
He could no longer sit up. Shikanga was there, 
Muledzwa, IsTyakwanikwa, his notoriously wicked 
sister, and Nsebe, of course. Custom forbade that I 
should speak, or any of his own people for that 
matter, directly to the king. So Nsebe, as ever, in- 
terpreted. 

There was an agony in the old king's face, an ap- 
pealing interrogation which I tried to answer. I 
said, ** Mtasa, you are going to take a long journey 
into an Unknown Country. When I came up here, 
I did not know your paths. There is not a single 
one you do not know. So I asked you for a guide 
and you always gave me one. 

^^ Now you are going where you will need a Guide 
and I have come to give you one. Jesus Christ, our 
Saviour, is the only one who can guide you into the 
Land Beyond. '^ 

The dying man strained his deafening ears and 
turning to Nsebe said, ^^ What is that she is saying ? '' 

"She says she is going away," answered :N'sebe, 
blandly. It was no use. Perhaps they told him 
later ; I doubt it. And so he passed away. 

There's a new Mtasa now and a new kraal in every 



34 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

sense of the word. There's a big mission up there 
now also and many converts. Old things are slowly 
passing away, and not so very slowly either. Still 
it takes time for the thorough renewal of a nation. 
But God's work is going gloriously on. 



Y 

THE MAKING OF A DICTIONARY 

" ^I >IEST catcli your hare/' is a familiar adage. 
1-^ The first thing in a new country is to get 

JL the language. With only a small, imper- 
fect dictionary compiled hastily in a district several 
hundred miles away from us, we had to begin at the 
very beginning as scores of other missionaries have 
had to do among the hundreds of dialects of the 
Bantu people. 

So I asked the Lord to send me a boy who would 
teach me the language and He sent me Jonas. Com- 
mend me to a boy for information. If it is to be had, 
he's got it ; and if he's got it, he is willing to impart 
it. A live boy generally makes it his particular busi- 
ness to know what is going on around him. 

So Jonas and I went up to Hartzell Yilla to live. 
It was a beautiful eight-roomed house way up on the 
side of Mt. Hartzell more than a quarter of a mile 
from all the other mission buildings. It had been 
built by a surveyor, Mr. Pickett, at a cost of $20,000. 
When the town moved and the government com- 
pensated the property owners for their houses and 
then turned the old town and all its buildings over to 
Bishop Hartzell for an industrial mission, Mrs. 
Hartzell chose this house for the Woman's Foreign 
Missionary Society. The bishop deeded it over to 

35 



36 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

that Society together with a fine plot of thirty acres 
of land. 

So I named it Hartzell Villa by which name the 
deed is recorded. Jonas and I did ^' light house- 
keeping.'^ He was engaged ostensibly to do the 
housework but as there was so little to do, he spent 
two-thirds of his time in my study teaching me the 
language. 

There was little cooking to do for it was at the 
close of the Boer war and prices were high. Eggs 
were $5.00 a dozen, cabbages fl.25 each, and every- 
thing else in proportion. Therefore, we lived very 
simply, indeed. 

As to furniture, I had a bed, a table, couch, two 
chairs and a baby organ. Everything else was made 
of packing and provision boxes dressed up in calico 
caps and petticoats. 

I had no stove for the first six months. Mr. De- 
Witt said he had sent home for one and would give 
me his when the new one came provided it lasted 
that long and did not go to pieces on the way up. 

In six months' time, the new stove came from 
America and one day I heard a knock at my back 
door and there was the old stove on a wheelbarrow 
with two or three natives to do the pushing and two 
white men to hold it together. 

They set it up on bricks — the legs had disappeared, 
no one knew where. One cover lid was missing so 
they brought a teakettle to set on that hole. 

Ii^evertheless we were proud of having a stove even 
though it did have fits— smoking us nearly out of 
house and home at such times. Doubtless the same 
stove is still in use at Hartzell Yilla to-day. 



The Making of a Dictionary 37 

But with such limitations, neither Jonas nor I were 
tied down to house work and my purpose of studying 
the language was accomplished. 

It surely would have been funny to an observer. I 
did not know any of the Chikaranga nor did Jonas 
know English. His keen desire to learn the latter 
was all that kept him useful all those tedious 
months. We exchanged commodities along the 
linguistic line. 

It was desperately hard at first. Jonas did not 
know what I wanted and I had not even a few native 
words at my command with which to make myself 
clear. If only I could have known the one word 
*^name" or the brief sentence, ^^What is this?^^ I 
could have got on so much better. 

As it was, I had to talk English which made me 
feel idiotic for I knew Jonas could not understand it, 
and a vigorous use of my hands which were far 
more intelligible. It was not so bad with nouns. 
Thank fortune that a noun is the name of an object. 
You can point to an object and even the most stupid 
savage will soon get to know what you want. But the 
rest of the parts of speech came very reluctantly 
onto the platform. It takes long, weary weeks and 
sharp eyes and ears to get them. 

And then there are the abstract words. It took 
me six months to find out the name for the local 
dialect of the Manika. I knew that the language 
prefix throughout the Bantu tongue was M or some 
adaptation of it. Thus the language of the Bafiote is 
Kifiote and the language of the WaswaMU, KiswaMli, 
But Jonas shook his head at all my efforts. 

One day I was in the kitchen where he and 



38 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

Shakeni, who was paying me a visit, were laughing 
and joking merrily together. I could follow much 
of the conversation. Jonas was doing a little brag- 
ging of his own and with a glow of pride remarked 
as he stepped out of doors to hang up the dish wiper, 
*^She understands Chinyika perfectly. She knows 
everything you say.'' 

He did not, however, have the slightest idea that I 
could understand. I almost jumped with joy. 
Nyika I knew was land or the country: Chinyika 
was the language of the country. Eureka ! I'd got 
it at last ! 

As I got my list of words from Jonas daily, one or 
more of the other missionaries would take them and 
verify them with other natives on the place. Then I 
entered them in alphabetical order in a small note- 
book. The spelling was phonetical and often had to 
be changed later when the small book gave way to a 
larger and the second to a still larger book. 

Then the time came when it all had to be typed, 
once more gone over with several natives from 
different parts of the country and then retyped again. 
That did not mean perfection, — far from it. But it 
did mean that it was ready for printing. It took 
four years to collect, classify, verify and prepare 
2,000 native and 4,000 English words. 

But probably those years of work were worth more 
to me personally than to any one else. I came to 
know the natives as only one can who is able to talk 
with them in their own tongue. I got to know so 
much of their ways and to see things through their 
eyes. And knowing them, I learned to love them. 



VI 

THE BANTU AND THEIR LANGUAGES 

THE name of Bantu was first used by Dr. 
Bleek, tlie first great philologist to deal 
with the African languages. He applied it 
to the vast number of tribes throughout this conti- 
nent whose language is notable for its prefix-pro- 
nominal system, all of which have the word Bantu, 
or some slightly varying form, used to designate men, 
people. 

In its primitive sense, ntu means head. Mu-ntUy is 
one head or one person and ha-ntu is the plural form. 

The Bantu occupy a territory from five degrees 
north to seventeen degrees south latitude on the west 
coast and from the equator to thirty-three degrees 
south on the east coast thus covering the entire 
centre of the continent from the Atlantic to the 
Indian Oceans. 

The languages arise from a common stem but have 
become divided into groups which differ from each 
other like Spanish and Portugese, or Italian and 
French. Inside these groups, there are numerous 
dialects not more marked than Scotch and English, 
or Danish and Norwegian. Such is the case with the 
Chikaranga which is used in the eastern part of 
Southern Ehodesia. 

The historian Theal voices the opinion of all others 
who have made special study of the Bantu languages 

39 



40 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

in various parts of the continent, when he says, 
"The language spoken by the Bantu is of high 
order, subject to strict grammatical rules, and 
adequate for the expression of any ideas whatever. 
It has no clicks although the Zulus have adopted 
three from the Bushman-Hottentots and only in cer- 
tain tribes are there to be found certain sibilating 
sounds which are difficult for an adult foreigner to 
acquire.'^ 

The construction differs entirely from all European 
tongues. There is no gender and the nouns are the 
governing factor in the sentence. These nouns are 
divided into classes which vary in number among 
different tribes but which average about twelve, ac- 
cording to Torrend. 

These classes are formed by the governing prefix of 
the noun : thus muntu, bantu belong naturally to the 
mu-ha class 5 chigaro^ chair, zwigaroj chairs, belongs 
to the cM-zwi class. This prefix must be incorporated 
into all the pronouns, adjectives and verbs connected 
with it in the sentence, thus : CJiigaro changu cMlcuru 
wacMwona here f Chair mine big, you saw it, did 
you ? Or smoothly, have you seen my big chair ? 

This is not so difficult to learn. The real difficul- 
ties of the language present themselves where the 
original prefixes have been dropped from usage in the 
noun itself but are obliged to reappear throughout 
the sentence. Now ngombe is the one form for both 
an ox and oxen, having in the process of time dropped 
its i-dzi prefixes. In usage, however, ngombe yangu, 
is my ox, ngombe dzangu, my oxen. 

Closer study of this last named class of nouns shows 
that originally they had the prefix fi or yi in the 



The Bantu and Their Languages 41 

singular as all Bantu words originally began with a 
consonant and ended with a vowel. This is still true 
of some of the older, purer forms of the west coast 
dialects. And whenever any Bantu word ends in a 
consonant, it is a corruption with some foreign ele- 
ment. 

Nothing is yet known with certainty of the origin 
of the Bantu. It is quite certain that they have been 
in Africa at least two thousand years and it seems 
evident that their migration over the continent was 
not extensive prior to 2,000 years ago. It is prob- 
able that they came to Africa as early as 3,000 years 
ago. The ruins testify to that The traces of 
Semitic blood in the Makaranga give strong colour 
to the theory that these were the people used by the 
Sabeans or Phoenicians for the building of these ruins. 

Many great writers and explorers are of the opinion 
that the Bantu are of Semitic rather than Hamitic 
stock. Dr. Bleek also thought that there could be no 
doubt but that the Papuan, Polynesian and Malay 
languages were related to it and that the prefix -pre- 
nominal system forms almost one continuous belt of 
languages on both sides of the equator, from the 
mouth of the Senegal to the Sandwich Islands. 

The Hausa language of the Niger Valley is the 
only one which was found reduced to writing and 
with a literature of its own. Sir Harry Johnson says 
of it, ^' This most remarkable Hausa speech is a con- 
necting link between the Hamitic and Negro language 
groups. Even at the present day, there are many 
links existing which show the original connection — 
both physical and linguistic — between the Arab and 
the Negro,'' 



42 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

The same writer has also recently brought to light 
the interesting fact that the little pigmies of the great 
forests have been found not to have any language of 
their own but that in all cases they have adopted and 
adapted the dialect of their nearest Bantu neighbours. 

The past history of the Bantu is and always will be 
dark. But, thank God, a brighter future is before 
them. 



VII 

DIFFICULTIES OF AN UNKNOWN TONGUE 

WE were over at the Umtali Academy and it 
was tea time. Americans at home can- 
not realize the enjoyment of the four 
o'clock cup o' tea in Africa. It is an oasis in the 
desert j a half hour in the day when all the cares and 
burdens are dropped and social relaxation prolongs 
life and health. 

It was a particularly delightful period at the 
Academy. This afternoon there was a new and a 
green boy in the kitchen. The tea was too strong for 

one of the visitors so Miss J called the boy and 

told him to bring up some hot water {chisa manzi, she 
said). He understood that hot water was wanted but 
all the particulars being left out he was left to his own 
wits and resources to supply the rest. 

Tired of waiting, the tea was drunk and all was 
over when the guests were highly amused to see the 
youth staggering into the room with the corrugated 
iron bath tub in which was a bucket or two of hot 
water. What else should any one want hot water 
for ? Poor boy ! He beat a hasty retreat under the 
fire of laughter which greeted his appearance. 

There was a certain white man in the country who 
married a new wife right out from England. As he 
had been in the country some years, he tried to im- 
press on her his excellent knowledge of the native 
language. 

43 



44 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

The poor woman had no end of mistakes like the 
tea party affair and the only consolation she got from 
her husband was, ''Now the fault is not the boy's. 
If you could only talk to the natives like I can, you 
would have no difficulty." 

There was a well on the farm on which they lived 
and one day the bucket dropped off and necessitated 
the lord of the manor going down himself to fish it up 
and tie it on again. Two natives turned the crank 
at the top according to his instructions. 

The job done, he looked up and shouted, '' Panzi, 
up." They knew what panzi meant, which was down. 
The English they had never heard before. So they 
let out a little more rope. ''Panzi, up," shouted the 
white man angrily as his feet were covered with 
water. They unwound another turn and the water 
came up to his waist. Another yell caused another 
turn and only his chin was above the cold waters. 
He was now convinced that the rascals intended 
murder and he shouted with desperate frenzy, 
"Panzi, up." 

One of the natives now looked over the curbing 
down into the well and said earnestly using the only 
Euglish word he knew, "Boss, tambo pelale," that 
is, the rope is finished. That was all that saved him. 

Another bride came to the country, a bonny, rosy- 
cheeked English lassie. She was very much troubled 
about a hut out in their back yard. It was the most 
miserable pretense of a shack, patched together with 
tin from old packing boxes. Beside the house serv- 
ants three or four natives who were employed in her 
husband's store had to sleep in it. 

Now the majority of the white people talk a kind 



Difficulties of an Unknown Tongue 45 

of mixed jargon known as Kitclien Kaffir. It's a 
marvellous jingo in which conjugations and declen- 
sions are thrown to the winds and one word is used 
in at least fifty different senses and the native serv- 
ants must be clever enough to know what is meant 
rather than what is said. 

The word sulca then, is used for anything from 
washing, bathing, sweeping, cleaning, down: susa, 
on the other hand, is used in an infinite variety of 
senses but its primitive meaning is to tear down, 
throw away or destroy. 

One day the bride decided that she would neglect 
her own house that day and give her servants a 
chance to tidy up their own little place. For being 
new to the country, she supposed the boys had 
this miserable shanty where they were all hud- 
dled together by preference, not knowing anything 
better. 

^^ Now, Sixpence,'' she began with a most charming 
smile, '' I no want you work for Missis to-day. Go 
susa lo house kawena." They were used to white 
folks so they thought they knew what she meant. 
The pretty bride wanted that miserable hut torn 
down. And for once they wasted no time and by 
the time their master came back at noon, every ves- 
tige of the shanty had disappeared. 

^'It's my fault," pleaded the little woman half in 
tears. ^' I meant to have said suJca and I said susa.''^ 

*' The rascals knew well enough what you meant," 
he stormed angrily. 

^'Of course it was all a mistake," she said to me 
afterwards, '^but I am rather glad now I made it. 
The old shanty did look bad." I was glad too. 



46 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

It was one of Sweden's natural born linguists who 
one day overheard an engineer at a mine talking to 
a raw native whose sole clothing consisted of a five 
cent piece of calico which had been worn until all 
trace of the original colour had been lost. The en- 
gineer said to this boy, ^'Go to the engine, Tcangala lo 
glass and come tell me if there is plenty manzi in the 
boiler. '^ The boy looked at him dazed ; for even the 
native words belonged to a tribe 600 miles away from 
his. The engineer was in a rage and turning to the 
Swede exclaimed in a passion, ^' What's the use of a 
white man spending twenty years to learn Kaffir? 
These natives don't know their own language when 
they hear it!" 

It was one of our Umtali missionaries who told a 
native to tora, take, a hand cart to some place. Now 
tora with the native has the meaning of carrying 
something on the head. So when the missionary 
went to see why the cart was not forthcoming, he 
found the native vainly striving to get it up onto his 
head to carry it that way. 

There is an exclamation of astonishment which is 
common among the Ehodesian natives, ^'Maiwe!" 
Mother thou ! It is usually pronounced, Ma ee way, 
very like. My way. One white man, new to the 
country, heard this without knowing its meaning 
and supposed the native was talking English. He 
got fearfully irritated over his inability to make his 
servant understand all his wants and wishes, believ- 
ing that it was pure obstinacy and cheek on the boy's 
part. So one day as the amazed youth exclaimed 
'•'• Mai we," he seized him by the neck and shouted to 
the great amusement of the other white man who 



Difficulties of an Unknown Tongue 47 

heard him, " I'll show you if it's your way or not. I 
want you to know that you've got to do my way,'' 

It was a Congo missionary who glibly told the na- 
tives the angels and devils were all the same. Many 
other equally bad and even worse mistakes are made, 
but in spite of all the disadvantages, the natives get 
to hear the Good News in an intelligible form and 
then they themselves scatter the seed far and wide in 
their own idioms which the white men seldom fully 
acquire. 



vm 

DOWN THE AGES 

THE hut was dark, smoky, cold and draughty 
within. Outside, the kraal was bathed in 
a flood of moonlight which lit up the huge 
boulders, caressed the dingy huts, concealed the lit- 
ter and rubbish and turned the dirty old kraal into a 
fairy-land. 

Yielding myself to the charm, I crawled through 
the tiny aperture called a door, wiped my eyes which 
wept on account of the smoke and gazed about me 
with a thrill of admiration. I wondered how it 
would all look from an old fortification high up 
among the boulders, a favourite, secluded spot of 
mine by day. There was no one in sight so I hurried 
down the main path and was soon hidden from view 
among the big rocks as I climbed upward. 

This place was on a great flat rock with a stone 
parapet all around it. The main path from the lower 
kraal passed at the foot of its perpendicular side some 
fifty feet below. Indeed the top leaned a little over 
the path. 

The view from here was magnificent. Within 
stone^s throw was an open space where near a big 
tree there was a cluster of the little huts which 
strongly resembled haystacks. I could hear the hum 
of voices which rose from those huts. Only two 
nights ago there was a murder in one of them and 

48 



Down the Ages 49 

yesterday I attended the faneral! What a wild, 
frenzied, hopeless occasion that was ! Some day 
these people will get to know the Comforter but to- 
night there are only fearful, aching hearts. 

The view is indeed magnificent ! Over on the 
other side of the valley is Chiriwadzumbo which 
with this mountain, Bingahuru, forms what is known 
as the Gateway to Inyanga. Majestic gateway of 
God's own making ! I have always felt as though 
standing in His presence as I have looked upon it. 
And there in the moonlight I seemed to lose hold on 
the present as I looked down that deep, dark valley 
whose sides were wrapped in silver sheen. It seemed 
to me that I could see as in a vision the countless 
generations who had passed adown it, see them in a 
procession 4,000 years long pass by as on review. I 
could hear the merry laughter of their young men 
and maidens, the cries of the infants, the songs of 
the dancers, the wailing of the mourners and the 
lash of the slave-driver as it fell on an army of bare 
and bleeding backs, the army of slaves who built up 
these thousands of ruins all over the country here- 
abouts. Who were their masters? Were they 
Sabeans or Phoenicians ? And were the slaves Ne- 
groes or Asiatics ? 

We shall never know. They are gone and their 
secret is buried with them. For them have ceased 
*'the voice of mirth, and the voice of gladness, the 
voice of the bridegroom and the voice of the bride, 
the sound of the millstones, and the light of the can- 
dle.'' The luxurious prince with his harem of beau- 
tiful women, and the groaning, bleeding slave have 
these thousands of years become common dust. The 



50 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

ruins in this beautiful valley tell us that they lived 
here, but the places once so familiar to them now 
know them no more forever. 

These same heavens declared the glory of God to 
them, and this same starry firmament showed to them 
His handiwork. The same rising sun spoke to them 
of an Almighty Hand ; this same silver moon uttered 
its knowledge of a divine Creator. Some of their 
sages and prophets read the heavenly Book aright and 
gave Him the worship their hearts prompted. Some 
of them made maps of the constellations and we have 
found them engraved on solid stone. 

No doubt they had their true prophets who warned 
the people against the vile Phallic, Baal and Ashtaroth 
worship introduced by the gold seekers of that ancient 
time, priests like Melchisedek without pedigree, and 
like him also without posterity. Had they listened 
to the message of the living God in this probable land 
of Havalah, they would not have wiped themselves 
out by their own gross excesses as it seems so proba- 
ble that they did do. 

Two men come up the path and their talking arrests 
my train of thought and brings me back to the pres- 
ent. I recognize one of them as Chimbadzwa, the 
king^s son, and the other an older man. As they 
walk along deep in conversation, armed with knives 
and spears as usual, they suddenly halt and turning 
around look up in my direction. It is then that I 
realize what an unwise thing I have done in coming 
out thus alone. But they soon recognize me and go 
their ways and I am left alone. 

But my train of thought is broken. Soon I must 
leave this mountain where I have spent long weeks. 



Down the Ages 51 

Over yonder where the trees and boulders throw their 
long, black shadows, the old king is fighting his last 
battle and must lose. His has been a cruel, despotic 
reign for nearly forty years. O what scenes these 
hillsides have witnessed ! The very stones cry out 
against the bloodshed and murder they have seen ! 

But the king's warfare is near its end. And when 
the end comes, they will bury him secretly and then 
move away and leave his spirit, as they believe, to 
wander about the old haunts undisturbed by any liv- 
ing man. 

The silence of the night will then only be broken 
by the uncanny hoot of the owl, the mournful wail of 
the hyena, the startling bark of some huge baboon or 
the piercing cry of the leopard. 

As the old king has lived so will he die and thus 
will he be buried. But for his people there are bet- 
ter things in store. Aye, for them already "the sun 
of righteousness has arisen with healing in his wings.'' 



IX 

SHAKENI 

" ^r^ BEAT SCOTT ! " exclaimed Harriet, sitting 

■ V bolt upright, "there^s a snake as big as 

^^^M your head.^' 

^' Where? '^ I asked sleepily rousing up. 

^^Why, it glided just over the corner of the rug 
there/' she replied with a grimace of horror. 

''Just you keep your eye on it, sister, will you, 
while I finish my nap," I replied as I sank back. It 
was a fearfully hot day and my friend, Miss Johnson, 
and I had walked six miles that morning to reach 
Shakeni's kraal. 

At noon we had had our lunch disturbed by discov- 
ering a snake in the tree over our heads so that famil- 
iarity was breeding contempt. We were so tired and 
the day was so drowsy that in spite of snakes and 
the fact that our rug was spread over nothing softer 
than a ledge of rock, we soon dosed off for a cat-nap. 

And then Shakeni came. 

IS'ot long after I had first moved into Hartzell Yilla, 
I saw a ludicrous figure going along the wagon road 
at the foot of the mountain. She wore a man's sailor 
hat and a lot of old European clothes which were a 
decided misfit. She was followed by two little girls 
who looked like boys. 

Some native men were digging near the house and 
I asked them who the girl was. They only smiled 
significantly to each other and vouchsafed no reply. 
■" 52 



Shakeni 53 

Just then the apparition being embarrassed by the 
eyes focused on her, broke into a run, and as the hat 
would not stay on her head, she snatched it off and 
carried it in her hand. We all laughed heartily. 

Two or three days after that she came back and I 
met her. She wanted to spend the night so I took 
her and the two little girls into the house. They were 
all three dreadfully dirty but I was fishing for the 
Master so I kept them until the next afternoon. I 
couldn't talk with them so I taught Shakeni to sew a 
pretty pink pillow, the first sewing she ever did. 

Jonas regarded them with undisguised disgust. 
The two children, Marusinyenyi and Mutisiswa, were 
particularly dirty and unattractive girls of about ten 
or eleven years of age. 

They came again and stayed two or three days and 
I showed Shakeni how to sew patchwork. She was 
so delighted. As she was a girl of nineteen or twenty, 
I asked, "Where is your husband?" She smiled 
charmingly and replied, "I have no husband. '^ 
Another woman said the same thing, you remember. 

As she departed on that occasion, Jonas came in an 
inch taller from conscious superiority. 

"O these Manika women !'^ he exclaimed, "how 
dirty they are. Look at the difference between 
Shakeni' s hands and mine ! These women never wash 
their hands. Ugh!" With which explosion he 
turned to the kitchen. 

That evening I said to him, "Why isn't Shakeni 
married?" 

Jonas shrugged his shoulders expressively. 

* ^ Why isn^ t she married ? " I persisted. The ques- 
tion had to be repeated several times before he re- 



54 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

luctantly answered, "Because she cut her upper teeth 
first.^^ 

I was sure my ears deceived me, but he went on to 
explain. 

''In our country it is very, very bad to cut the up- 
per teeth first. Do your children ever do so?" I 
had to frankly admit that I did not know which teeth 
usually came first, and that it made no difference to us. 

"Well, it does to us,^^ replied Jonas emphatically. 
" A child that cuts the upper teeth first is bewitched 
and it is the custom of our people to bury such a 
child alive.'' 

I asked if some other mode of cutting short the 
child's earthly career would not do just as well. 
Jonas was horrified at the suggestion. Any other 
method would be cruelty. 

"But," said Jonas with a sigh, "I suppose her 
mother loved her baby and did not want to do it, — 
anyhow she didn't (his gesture expressed his opinion 
that such was a pity), and now there isn't a man in 
the country would marry her." 

"Why not?" I asked. 

" Because he would die," said Jonas emphatically. 

" How soon would he die ? As soon as they were 
married?" I asked. 

Jonas became cautious. "He might and then he 
might not." 

"Well, would he die in a week?" Jonas was 
more cautious. We are all bold in setting forth glit- 
tering generalities but to get down to a specific case 
is another thing. 

"Would he die in a month then?" Jonas was 
nettled. 



Shakeni ^^ 

^^Don^t yon see, Missis," he exclaimed in an ex- 
asperated tone, '^ he might die at once, he might die 
in a week, he might die in a month. Or he might 
live years and they might have children and the 
children might grow up but sooner or later he would 
surely die." 

^' Tm sure he would," I retorted laughing heartily. 
** Did you ever know a man who married a woman 
who didn't die, Jonas'?" 

But Jonas refused to discuss such a serious ques- 
tion further. 

And this was the girl, a remarkable beauty, at 
large. 

Soon Jonas would be leaving me and I had made 
this visit to the kraal to get this girl to come and 
live with me. Jonas had previously approached her 
on the same subject. 

I was surprised as I found her in the kraal to see 
how neat and clean she was. And her two sisters 
were also cleaner. It was beautiful to see how they 
adored this big sister of theirs. 

Her mother also welcomed us most graciously and 
the three days spent in the kraal were pleasant ones 
if the nights were not and I returned to Hartzell 
Yilla with a light step and a lighter heart. At 
last I was to have a native girl to live with me ! 

I found Shakeni a treasure, indeed ! She had been 
an outcast from babyhood and responded to the love 
and attention I gave her as a flower responds to the 
sun. 

She was remarkably quick to learn either books, 
sewing, or, what was harder yet, me. My grasp of 
the language was as yet very weak. I managed to 



56 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

use quite a few words but I had not been able to as 
yet get hold of the grammatical construction. 

Shakeni soon learned what I wanted to say and to 
repeat it after me to the women and girls of the 
kraals where we live. 

For nine months she was with me day and night 
whether I was at home or in the kraals, except one 
night when her mother sent for her to go to Penha- 
langa to see a sick uncle. Afterwards, I bitterly re- 
gretted allowing her to go there. I did not know as 
much of native ways as I did later. 

Shakeni learned to do what house work there was 
to do and did it well. She learned, as I said, to read 
quickly and had gone through the Primer in nine 
months' time — and a Chikarauga Primer is of neces- 
sity much harder than the English one. 

She learned to sew, to make her own clothes, al- 
though she did not do the fine sewing Marita, Gumba 
and the other girls did later on. 

Had the shadow of the curse not been on her, 
Shakeni would have been undoubtedly our first Bible 
woman. That was what I hoped but it was not to be. 
That honour was Marita' s who certainly deserved 
some honour after walking six hundred miles to come 
to our school. 

But Shakeni was my first love among the Manika 
girls and women. She was the most beautiful of 
them all and the most affectionate as well, though 
this may have been because I was the first person 
who did not consider her possessed of an evil spirit. 

And as I look back, I feel that the work of the five 
years would not have been in vain had I reached no 
other girl than Shakeni. 



X 

HER FIRST VACATION 

SHAKENI sat on the front door-step under the 
heavily laden passion- vine which formed into 
an arch over her head and then trailed grace- 
fully along the front veranda of Hartzell Villa. 
She had finished her morning's lesson, a chapter of 
Matthew in the vernacular, but it was evident her 
mind was not on her books. Still her listlessness 
might have been because it was a very hot morning. 

^N^ow she sat in the full blaze of the sun twirling a 
corner of her robe nervously and watching her 
teacher's darning-needle pass in and out of a gar- 
ment which was almost hopelessly worn out. 

It was Jim, so Jonas said, who had one day been 
washing with the other boys at the river, and who 
held up a garment of Mr. Springer's and said in dis- 
gust, ' ' Look at that ! Is that fit for a white man to 
wear ? Why doesn't he give that to a boy ? " 

^'This is a sample of the luxuries we missionaries 
live in," thought the teacher, and she smiled invol- 
untarily at the thought. 

Shaken! saw the smile and gathered up courage, 
and with an attempt to speak off-handed said, 
^'When this moon is finished, I am going to the 
kraal." 

The teacher was not at all surprised. She had 
67 



58 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

read it in the girl for the past month so she merely 
said, " You are going home to dig your field ? ^' 

*^ Yes,'^ she answered with a sigh of relief. And 
now that the dreaded ordeal of telling the news was 
over, she hastened into the house to find some work. 

The missionary leaned back in her chair and the 
work fell into her lap as she unconsciously watched 
the sunlight gleaming among the trellised vines. 
Her mind was on her one girl pupil in the land 
where girls are so hard to get. It seemed as if her 
heart would break to have this beautiful girl go 
back to her old life. She had been more than a 
pupil ; she had been a constant companion day and 
night for eight months. 

However, a change had recently come over the girl 
and the teacher knew that it was of no use to try and 
force her to stay. She must go. But the seed had 
been sown and it surely would bring forth fruit in 
time. 

The crickets in the tall grass chirped merrily 
and the birds whistled a lively tune. ^^Yes,'' she 
said to herself softly, *4t is best that she should go. 
She is in His care. Our times are in His hands." 
And with that comfort, the load was lifted from her 
heart and she took up her darning. 

That evening, the frugal supper ended and the 
dishes washed, Shakeni went into the study for the 
usual evening chat. As she set the lamp down on 
the little home-made table, her heart smote her. 
How she would miss these daily talks during which 
there had been so much mutual instruction ! She 
had learned a little English and a great deal about 
the wide, wide world whose horizon had heretofore 



Her First Vacation 59 

not extended beyond Mashonaland. And she had 
taught her teacher much about her own language 
and her people. 

What a difference between the neat, clean, cozy- 
study and the dark, dirty, cheerless hut which she 
would occupy a week hence. She loathed the life of 
the kraal. Why then was she going back ? Alas ! 
The curse of a heathen superstition was upon her 
and she must go back and bear its blight. 

Shakeni was no ordinary girl and she loved the 
bright and the beautiful passionately. She was 
keenly sensitive to the coloured walls of Hartzell 
Yilla, and the bright calicos which converted old pack- 
ing and provision boxes into useful furniture. She 
loved the pretty cards which decorated the walls; 
she had liked the quiet and had enjoyed the learn- 
ing. However, the curse was upon her: she must 

go. 

^^ Now," said her teacher, " when you get back to 
the kraal, I want you to gather the little children 
around you and teach them the things you have 
learned here, especially your two sisters, Marusin- 
yenyi and Mutisiswa. I want you to teach them to 
sing these hymns, teach them to pray, read to them 
out of this little book of Matthew. If you don^t you 
will soon forget all you ever knew. Will you do it ? " 

*^ Yes, Missis, '^ she replied softly. 

Monday morning came and she was up at 4 : 30. 
It had been arranged that Charley Potter should take 
her place so Charley came up early to get breakfast 
but she insisted in setting the table for her teacher 
herself for the last time and to cook that last meal. 
Just before it was ready, she went into the study and 



6o Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

said, ^^ Can't we have prayers before breakfast to- 
day? I want to sing once more before I go." For 
she wanted to get on the trail before the sun was hot. 

Family prayers that morning were more like a 
funeral service. 

Then she was ready to go. Her bundle of clothes 
was wrapped in a gayly coloured blanket. In this 
bundle were many garments which she had made 
with her own hands and among other treasures was a 
patchwork quilt she had sewed herself. 

Skillfully balancing her bundle on her head, grace- 
fully pulling the loose, gayly coloured cloth over her 
shoulders, she slowly descended the steps and down 
the front yard to where the path joined the road. 

Here she stopped and looked back at the white 
woman standing under the passion- vine. It was only 
for an instant ; then she turned her head and walked 
rapidly northward while the lone white woman 
stood in the doorway until the girl disappeared from 
view. 

Some day she would come back but it would not be 
for long years in which everything, most of all her- 
self, should be changed. 



XI 

FOR CHRISTIAN BURIAL 

*' 1^ ^T ISSIS, there is a mukadzi (woman) who 
\ / 1 wishes to see you. ' ' 

X ▼ Ji. " What does she want r ' I asked. 

^'I do not know," Samuel replied. So I got up 
from the typewriter where I was copying sheets of 
dictionary and went down-stairs. There in the 
front yard sat a dejected, untidy figure of a woman 
whom at first I did not recognize until she got up 
and came towards me when I exclaimed, ^^ Shaken! ! 
Why did you not come right up to my study ? Come 
now.'' 

What a change in my beautiful girl ! Who would 
have dreamed that this fat, sloppy, dirty, ragged, 
bedraggled woman was the bright, bonny, graceful 
girl who had gone down the walk and away to her 
kraal from Hartzell Villa three years before! I 
groaned inwardly at the change as I led the way 
back to my study where I seldom received native 
women from the kraals, one reason being that the 
most of them were deathly afraid to climb the stairs. 

Shaken! dropped down on the floor with the ex- 
clamation, ^'Ndizwo is dead." I had forgotten the 
child's name and did not at first understand who was 
meant so she repeated, ^'I^dizwo is dead." Ndizwo 
was her child and the cause of her absence from the 
mission all these years. ISTdizwo was part white. 

61 



62 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

We did not know his father but Metapudzwa told me 
he was a half-breed transport rider at Penhalanga. 

I was glad, frankly, that the little fellow was dead. 
He had ever been an Ishmael. From the first that I 
saw him, he seemed to wear an inveterate scowl and 
have an aversion for every one except his grand- 
mother. Did the bitterness of his mother' s soul as she 
rebelled against the curse which had denied her legal 
wifehood like other women and had made her an 
outcast of whom her hard stepfather made gain, 
enter into the child and poison his unborn nature I 
It certainly looked like it. I never saw a child who 
seemed so solitary and so impregnated with hatred as 
that child. "We had often spoken of what a hard, 
fierce fight he would have in life. And now he was 
gone. Truly I was glad. 

And I told Shakeni so. I told her I was glad the 
little fellow had been taken by a merciful heavenly 
Father where he would not have to bear and suffer all 
that he would have had to meet had he lived. 

Then she told me why she had come. She could 
not bear to think of him buried after the heathen 
fashion so she had come to beg a box and to know if 
he might not be buried up in the churchyard by her 
sister, Marusinyenyi, whose death and burial had af- 
fected Shakeni greatly. 

Some eighteen months previously, the two little 
girls who used to run about the country with Shakeni 
had come to me and said they wanted to stay and go to 
school. They had developed into quite young ladies. 
Philip told us afterwards that he had fallen in love 
with Mutisiswa at the kraal and had told her he 
wanted to marry her. She admitted that she was 



For Christian Burial 63 

very willing. He then informed her that she must 
come to school and study. She dropped her head, 
twisted her robe and said she did not want to go to 
school. He thereupon informed her that she could 
do as she liked but that he did not propose to have 
any heathen girl for his wife. So she came. She was 
only a foster-sister of Shakeni and Marusinyenyi, but 
the two girls were inseparable, so they both came. 

Marusinyenyi died a year later of dropsy but her 
death was a beautiful one. She knew she was dying 
and told Mutisiswa that she could see the angels in 
the room so she was not afraid to die. She was 
buried beside Kaduku in the native churchyard at 
Old Umtali, and we planted flowers as an emblem of 
the resurrection on their graves. 

And now Shakeni wanted this son of her sorrow to 
be laid beside the little sister whom she had loved so 
dearly. So I gave her a box, asked Mr. Spears to 
line it with white cloth which he did gladly and they 
took it back to the kraal for the body. 

They did not get back until sundown so we had to 
wait till morning for the service, for Mr. Springer 
was away that day and did not return until late Sat- 
urday night. 

Sunday morning dawned a perfect Easter day. 
The bell rang and we gathered in the chapel with all 
the boys and girls for the faneral of the poor baby. 
There was the grandmother with dry eyes and break- 
ing heart. But for the love of Christ which had sent 
Dr. Gurney out there, she herself would have died 
in awful, lingering agony long ago. There was 
Mutisiswa sobbing not only for the child but more 
for the memory of the dear girl for whose death she 



64 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

had been almost unconsolable. There were likewise 
all the others of the family and every heart was 
stirred as we sang softly a Christian hymn. It was 
the same hymn we had sung at Keduku's funeral 
when we had all wept together. How we had loved 
that boy ! 

As the baby had died the day before, we did not 
open the box but it was covered with white cloth and 
strewed with flowers. The service was brief for 
there was little to say and soon we stood around 
the open grave and again heard the solemn words, 
^' Ashes to ashes ; dust to dust.'^ 

Then bowing his head, the preacher prayed aloud 
that the mother and other relatives and all there as- 
sembled might come to know the Saviour of men who 
alone is Life and the Eesurrection, that believing on 
Him they might never die. 

Another year went by and Shakeni came to me 
again. This time she had another baby on her back 
and a smile on her face. She came to tell me that 
she was really married now to a native of Cape Colony 
and that as her husband was away from her on the 
road most of the time, he had given his consent to 
her coming back to the mission to the Girls' School. 

Later on while at Broken Hill, I got a letter from 
her telling me of her entire change of life and how 
happy she was. 

^^ Sow your rice upon the waters,'' said the oriental 
sage. *'It will disappear from sight and lodge in 
the black mud below. But it isn't lost ; it will not 
rot. Leave it in God's hands and after many days 
thou Shalt find it again and reap a rich harvest." 



XII 

OUR LAST NIGHT— TREKKING BY OX WAGON 

AS long as we live, we will not cease to bless 
the De Witts for that trip when we were only 
two weeks new to the country. We were 
gone a month and no one can estimate the benefit of 
such a trip to a new missionary. 

And when, so soon after that, the cattle sickness 
broke out and destroyed our herd, we thanked God 
more than ever that we had had that never-to-be-for- 
gotten evangelistic tour in an ox wagon, an American 
make, by the way. But it was an experience we 
never wished to have repeated. It came in its own 
time and had its own place. For of all the tedious 
modes of travel we have in Africa, the ox wagon is 
the worst. How many times on that trip I walked 
after the wagon expecting it every minute to be over- 
turned ! 

For nearly a month now, we had journeyed up and 
down the rugged mountainous country of Southern 
Ehodesia. We had left the wagon at outspans and 
visited kraals just off the road whenever they were 
not more than two or three miles away. Here we 
had held services in English for want of something 
better. To be sure the natives could not understand 
us. But it roused their curiosity and led many of 
them to find out later more about us. It was four 
years later when Benjamin told me that he was in his 

65 



66 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

father's kraal when we visited it and that that one 
visit gave him a sense of knowing us. 

Owing to the fact that the road was bad, the oxen 
slow, the driver very inefficient and the covered 
wagon springless, we rode very little, as our browned 
faces and blistered noses testified. 

We had also wept briny tears over the smoking 
little camp-fires and had eaten with relish the badly 
cooked food which was liberally seasoned with sand 
and dirt by the incessant winds. 

By night we had climbed into the wagon whose 
big, canvass-covered top afforded protection from 
the wild beasts and from the biting cold, and the 
high winds which increased in violence with the set- 
ting of the sun and which howled around the tent 
flaps. Sometimes the wind would die down near 
morning and then as we emerged from our cramped 
quarters, we found every leaf and blade covered with 
a silver filigree of hoarfrost beautiful to behold. 

That last day we had all tramped many miles in 
dust several inches deep under a burning sun, the 
men far in advance of the wagon and Mrs. DeWitt 
and myself in the rear. What a relief when we came 
to the roaring, rushing Oodzani Eiver where we 
bathed our dusty faces and lay down under the 
shadow of a large tree while our last meal was being 
prepared, and gazed unseeingly at the tall, cool, green, 
lush reeds and rushes growing rank and tall in the 
shallow pools near the shore and on a small island. 

Our minds were occupied with the thought that 
the trip was now over and on the morrow, we would 
all of us settle down to regular work. We discussed, 
but with languor, the two bridal couples who were 



Our Last Night — Trekking by Ox Wagon 67 

also outspanned near us. They were going back to 
the Butch Settlement in the north from which we 
had just come. Their double wedding was still the 
talk of Inyanga. 

At five o' clock the oxen have had their feed and 
so have we. So we inspan the sixteen oxen and then 
get into the wagon with dread for we have to cross 
at the Slippery Drift where many an ox, a horse or a 
mule has been drowned. The wagon, a springless 
one, you remember, jolts down over the rocks into 
the eddying, foaming, swirling river where the oxen 
flounder desperately in striving to find firm foothold 
on the slippery rock bottom. 

The men assure us women that there isn't the 
slightest danger but even as they speak, big, black 
Blessman slips, staggers and goes under. The driver 
yells frantically, cracking his long whip in the air 
over the backs of the others and soon Blessman is on 
his feet again. 

Almost immediately Eupee, a big, ugly black 
brute but one of our strongest and best, goes down 
while his yoke-mate struggles and splashes in his ef- 
forts lest he too be dragged under by the swift cur- 
rent, but they also right themselves amid the fierce 
yells of the driver and leader. 

The crossing takes but a few minutes but it is dan- 
gerous and exciting. As we pull up the bank, we see 
the two Boer couples on the other side, standing 
under a tree. The brides are mere lassies of sixteen, 
short, plump with fair round faces framed in pink 
calico sunbonnets. The lads, scarcely in their 
twenties, are large, stalwart fellows in gray flannel 
shirts, stout breeches, high boots, ^'Boss-of-the- 



68 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

plains'^ hats and the inevitable ammunition belts 
around their waists. 

They make an ideal pastoral picture as they stand 
there close to the rushing, swirling waters, each little 
bride with one hand in a large brown one. As we 
turn the bend in the road, we see the fingers inter- 
twine more closely and the pink sunbonnets rest 
lightly against the gray-flanneled shoulders. 

Our hearts soften into tender, hearty blessings on 
this " Love's young dream.'' A few years more and 
these blooming, rosy-cheeked girls will be weary, 
haggard, prematurely old women from hard, out- 
door toil, poverty, loneliness and a big family. 

A ripping, creaking, crashing, tearing sound in- 
terrupts our thoughts and causes us to start up in 
fright and dismay as an overhanging limb catches 
the wagon tent and leaves it almost demolished. We 
then learn that our driver got hold of some beer at 
Mtasa's and is now half drunk. This impresses the 
men that they must now walk near the span and we 
women are too nervous to stay in the wagon, so we 
get out also. 

A walk of a mile or two in the moonlight calms 
our nerves and raises our spirits, though we are 
somewhat annoyed at first by a fantastically dressed 
native, the latest addition to our party, who persists 
in barely keeping off our heels until we stop and 
make him pass by. His is a grotesque figure often 
pictured but seldom seen, a wandering minstrel. 
As he walks along in the moonlight carrying a native 
organ and tambourine on which he plays as he walks, 
the one long feather in his hair, his appearance is al- 
most uncanny. 



Our Last Night — Trekking by Ox Wagon 69 

The last donga, or ravine, is reached and we see 
the lights of home but we cannot reach there till to- 
morrow. On the other side of the valley, five miles 
away we see a single light at Old Umtali. "We set 
the freak to work getting wood for a fire. 

At ten o'clock the wagon comes up and as there is 
no wind, we wrap ourselves in rugs and blankets and 
draw around the glowing fire on the other side of 
which are the native boys. We are glad and sorry it 
is our last of so many pleasant evenings together. 

The boys put on a big pot of beans to cook for 
themselves and we give them tinned beef to put into 
it. They crouch down warming their hands and re- 
lating to each other the incidents of the trip while 
we drink tea and munch roasted peanuts hot from 
the ashes. 

Big Jim, the cook, now gets his mbila, or native 
piano, and begins to play the national dancing tune. 
The freak joins him and they begin to sing. At first 
they croon softly in a weird, minor strain. Now 
they start singing responsively to the perfect accord 
of their instruments. The song waxes faster and 
louder and their bodies sway rhythmically as they 
crouch there on their haunches. 

We are now lost to their world as memory takes 
them back to the far-away scenes of their childhood 
and as they sing the same song which their ancestors 
have sung these hundreds, perhaps thousands, of 
years. 

The singing increases in speed and volume until 
Big Jim, no longer able to control himself, springs to 
his feet and executes a vigorous dance. 

As he ceases, we all applaud and the hungry boys 



70 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

make an equally vigorous attack on the underdone 
beans and bully beef. 

We get up, unwind our rugs and blankets and 
crawl up into our bed on wheels where little Vivian 
lies in her hammock long since asleep. 

It is just the hour of midnight when at last we get 
our weary bodies under the warm blankets while the 
frogs in the neighbouring donga hoarsely croak us to 
sleep. And in the brilliantly lighted tropical sky, 
over our heads, there gleams and sparkles the beauti- 
ful Southern Cross. 



xni 

IN THE HUNDI VALLEY 

ALL that morning we made our way along the 
bleak Inyanga Heights in the teeth of a bit- 
ing wind which nipped us to the bone. As 
we passed the old sheep kraal, we were reminded of 
that night five years ago when Mrs. DeWitt and I 
walked along that dark road where we had to feel 
our way with our feet, carrying the baby. 

The wagon had got stuck at the bottom of the hill 
and we had been sent on ahead. The brief twilight 
had faded and black night had set in. Being over 
7,000 feet above the sea, the night was cutting cold. 
We had some matches so we gathered a few ferns and 
started a fire. There was no wood on all that vast 
plain but we knew there were plenty of lions and 
leopards. So we had kept up the fire until we had 
cleared a large space beyond which we dare not ven- 
ture. It was already nine o'clock so we decided that 
all we could do was to walk back to meet the wagon 
which we did. 

Now the sun was shining but even so our hands 
and faces ached with the cold. As we rode along 
the old wagon road side by side, many other reminis- 
cences came up before our minds. Here was where 
we turned off to see the Pungwe Falls. Mrs. DeWitt 
and I were appointed to view them from the top 

71 



72 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

while the men got a nearer and better view from a 
rather perillous position. 

And just over that deep gully yonder was where 
the monstrous big baboon appeared, and seating him- 
self on a great ledge of rock, shook his fist at us two 
women. 

We were now bound for the Hundi Yalley of which 
we had never heard until the day before. We were 
anxious to reach it by night lest our native boys die 
of the cold as so many others had done up there on 
those bleak, unprotected plains. Moreover we 
wanted to visit the valley in order to carry the Gos- 
pel to yet another part where it had not gone 
before. 

But in turning aside to once more view the falls, 
we missed our trail and went astray. For a mile or 
two, we followed a narrow ridge of land some 1,500 
feet above the surrounding country. On the one side 
of it was the magnificent Pungwe Gorge through 
which the river roared and seethed and boiled so 
furiously as to ^have invested itself with all sorts of 
wild superstitious tales among the natives. On the 
other side was a view that was awesome in its 
grandeur. There stretching away to the southeast 
was a vast expanse towards the sea where on clear 
days could be seen Gorongoza mountain nearly 200 
miles away. 

We had to continue to follow this ridge or turn 
back, for both sides were too precipitous to descend. 
The trail and the ridge narrowed until we came to 
an abrupt and dizzy descent among huge boulders. 
So high was it that the donkeys balked stoutly as 
they looked down the almost sheer trail and it took 



In the Hundi Valley 73 

a good lialf hour to get them started for we had to 
deal gently with them lest they break their precious 
necks. Maybe you can reason with a mule but you 
can't with a donkey. 

Once started, we all went like goats from boulder 
to boulder. But when we got to the foot of the ridge, 
we found that the trail we were following only led up 
again onto another ridge and there was no trail to 
the kraal which we could see about five miles away 
over in the Hundi Yalley. So we left the path and 
determined to cut across the unbroken veld in order 
to get off the Heights, so that our boys would not 
suffer with the cold. 

We now plunged into grass from four to eight feet 
high through which we made our weary way up and 
down almost precipitous ravines so slippery from the 
tall grass that we were constantly losing our footing. 
Eiding was long since out of the question and we had 
trouble to even drive the donkeys down the steep 
mountainsides. They did not mind going up but 
they were afraid going down. 

There were swift mountain streams to be crossed, 
thick jungle to be penetrated but at last at eight 
o'clock that evening, we reached a kraal whose chief 
we learned was named Bowu. Here we rejoiced to 
find a lion-proof stockade empty in which we could 
put our weary donkeys with safety. A roaring fire 
was soon built at the village loafing place, the dali^ a 
place like the '^gate'' of olden times, where all the 
elders congregate. 

The next morning, assured of our peaceful inten- 
tions, a large crowd gathered to hear the Gospel mes- 
sage for the first time. Many of the women laughed 



74 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

and giggled, the young bucks nudged each other, 
some asked questions, some mocked and a few lis- 
tened with interest. 

No missionary had ever been through here before 
and we had good audiences at the nine or ten kraals 
where we held services during the day which vas a 
hard one. It was still impossible to ride, for though 
the kraals were not far apart they were all separated 
from each other by steep ravines from 500 to 800 feet 
deep. 

IsTear sundown, we came to a very small collection 
of huts and asked if it were far to the big chief 
Sangama's kraal. A smart young buck, with a 
long feather in his hair, came out and assured 
us most plausibly that Sangama was close at hand 
and we would reach his kraal before the sun went 
down. 

Were there any more dongas (ravines) to cross ? 
O no, there was only one little one and we would get 
there before the sun set. The raw heathen take nat- 
urally to lying so we rarely believe what they say 
but this story seemed quite truthful. 

A mile farther we came to one of the worst cafions 
in the whole of Ehodesia. Had we seen at once how 
bad it was we would have turned back. But having 
got into it we had to go through. 

The trail was so steep that it was very difficult to 
get our donkeys to go down. We dare not force 
them or they would fall head first and be either 
maimed or killed. 

So I had to lead the way taking care to be far 
enough ahead so that Jack would not drop on me if 
he did stumble and fall. 



In the Hundi Valley 75 

Jack was used to following me like a dog and so, 
with many a halt, he came on. Nig was more fright- 
ened but he could not bear to lose sight of his little 
white chum. And besides behind him came Mr. 
Springer with his sjambok (whip) in hand. Take it 
all in all, he considered it best to make his way care- 
fully down the dizzy trail. 

It was dark when we reached the bottom and 
plunged into thick jungle close to a roaring moun- 
tain stream which made a sheer plunge of about 500 
feet a mile farther up-stream. Had there not been 
so many lions in the vicinity, we would have camped 
there until morning, for the stream was full of big 
boulders and deep pools and we knew it would be 
hard to get the donkeys across. 

The moon came out bright and clear as we got the 
unwilling quadrupeds into the cold, rushing stream. 
They slipped into a pool and no effort they could 
make enabled them to get a footing on the slippery 
rock ahead. The boys crossed over, laid down their 
loads and came back to the rescue of the discour- 
aged, exhausted little beasts who seemed in imminent 
danger of drowning. Eight boys and Mr. Springer 
succeeded in fairly lifting each one out bodily and 
getting them safely on land. 

Then my turn came to cross. In midstream, I 
came to a boulder which I could not climb unless 
I took off my boots. So balancing myself on two 
rocks, I managed to get to my bare feet and, with a 
good deal of help, climb up one side and slide down 
the other without dropping into the water. 

Once more we had thick jungle and a steep climb 
in pitchy darkness so that it was nine o^ clock before 



76 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

we reached the first kraal, Chijara^s. Sangama's was 
three miles further, but we were ready to camp for 
the night. In a few minutes it began to rain. 

The next morning the mountains were enveloped 
in a cold, white fog and mist. Our tent was wring- 
ing wet and all our clothes damp. We could not get 
an early start, so we asked Chijara if we could not 
hold a service in one of his huts. He was quite will- 
ing and soon nearly every one in the kraal was 
crowded into the hut. I sat on one side of the hut 
and the women and girls gathered by me. The men 
and boys took their places over by Mr. Springer. I 
mention this for it is a characteristic custom, — ob- 
served rigidly within doors and generally in the open 
air services. 

Whenever we have held services in huts, even 
where no Christian service has ever been held before, 
we have always noted that the women shyly take their 
places by the white woman's side. 

This congregation listened intently as they heard 
the Old, Old Story, and the men asked several intelli- 
gent, interested questions. 

At ten o'clock the mists lifted and the sun came out 
so we started on the trail, but we had not gone more 
than two miles when it began raining again and soon 
our feet and legs were soaking wet. What a day that 
was ! Drenched and chilled to the bone we had to 
climb and descend, climb and descend and then climb 
again for about 4,000 feet until once more we reached 
the wind-swept heights. And after that, we had to 
travel nearly ten miles to reach a white trader's store 
so that our boys could sleep in a hut. Here we 
changed our own wet garments, but as there was no 



In the Hundi Valley 77 

fire we put in another night of keen suffering with 
the cold. 

Such is one of the experiences of itinerating in va- 
cation time. 

But itipays. We have had not a few boys from that 
Hundi Valley come to the school at Old Umtali and 
some of those chiefs have been asking us to send them 
teachers. Each boy who comes to the school is him- 
self a witness. He goes back at vacation times and 
tells what he has himself learned and experienced, as 
he sits around the fires and the people listen and freely 
ask him whatsoever they will. Thus the seed is sown 
and later the missionary follows to reap a glorious 
harvest. 



XIV 

WHAT'S IN A NAME? 

THE African changes Ms name like his gar- 
ment, — when it is worn out. He gets tired 
of one name and gets another. He feels 
that his baby name is worn out by the time he reaches 
puberty. If he joins one of the many secret societies 
which exist among the various tribes, he changes his 
name again. I remember one time on the Congo 
when I met a man and asked him how his little son 
Mwanga, who had worked for me, was. He replied, 
^'He is dead," which being interpreted meant that 
having joined the Nkimba, the secret society of that 
region, he had changed his name and the old name 
was dead. He also wished me to believe that his son 
had really died and that a new being had come to live 
in his body. That same man has since learned to 
say, *^I am dead unto sin and alive through Christ,^' 
and become one of the most energetic and earnest of 
Christian workers there. 

We find the kraal natives who go to the towns to 
woi:k almost always return to their people bearing 
such names as Sixpence, Shilling, Jumbo, Tickie, etc., 
to which names they hold tenaciously and which are 
recognized in all seriousness by their friends. 

We missionaries are usually sticklers for native 
names as these hotchpotch combinations grate on 
our ears. In the school I always insisted on learning 

78 



What's in a Name"? 79 

a boy's kraal name and calling him by it. So when 
Benjamin gave his name as Fifteen, I turned it down 
at once and always called him Mashoma. When he 
came to be baptized, he chose the name of Benjamin, 
but to this day writes his nameBenjaminF. Madziro, 
the F. standing for Fifteen. His last letter is signed 
F. B. Madziro. Others have read F. Benjamin and 
all other imaginable combinations. 

For although the African is exceedingly imitative 
and determined to have the full complement of names 
like a white man, he can never seem (in the Ehodesian 
district, at least) to understand the proper relation 
and order of the names, his variations being not only 
confusing but disastrous to a satisfactory mail service. 
And the boys are very keen on writing and getting 
letters. 

When our natives are baptized, they invariably 
want a new name, nor is this a custom peculiar to the 
African. Pagan names in all pagan countries have 
had their heathenish significance so that converts have 
turned from them to the names of the Bible which 
they have adopted. 

We allow our people to choose, and yet it often 
needs a bit of the missionary's guidance to keep them 
out of the ridiculous. There was James : long before 
he came to us, he had taken the name of the master 
for whom he worked, James Caplan, so that we never 
knew him by a native name. When he was baptized, 
he had his heart set on the name Eevelation, and it 
was with considerable reluctance that he gave it up 
for Daniel, which name was well suited to his charac- 
ter. Daniel's preaching was after the pattern of the 
early Methodist preaching of which we read. He 



8o Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

certainly reminded us of Peter Cartwright, who, it is 
said, '^ fairly shook his congregation over the mouth 
of hell.'' 

When Mali and Useni came up for baptism, they 
modestly asked for suggestions from their pastor. Mali 
said he had thought of Stephen and wished to know 
if that seemed proper. Nothing could have been 
more suitable to his general character, while the im- 
pulsive but ardent, tender-hearted, affectionate Useni 
had always been suggestive of the name of Philip. 
So they were thus named. 

These two boys had come to us in the famin^e year 
when our crop had failed and we were heavily in debt. 
The edict had gone forth that while no one should 
be sent away, no more boys should be received. The 
next week these two came and applied for admission. 
Mr. Springer hesitated for a few seconds and then 
said to himself as he looked into their bright, eager 
faces, *'The Lord will surely provide," and took 
them in. They are married to Mukonyerwa and 
Mutisiswa, two of our best girls, and are doing excel- 
lent work as evangelists and teachers. 

Jone Nsingo and his wife, Suiwara, walked six 
hundred miles to come to our mission. Jone chose a 
no less high sounding name than that of Solomon. 
He is a good man but as yet has not been preemi- 
nently noted for his learning. Suiwara decided on 
Marita, a Bantuized version of Martha though in 
disposition she is more of a Mary. She usually 
signs herself to me, Mrs. N. Solomon. "When she 
had her first little girl baptized Janet Heren (the 
natives often have difficulty in pronouncing the letter 
Z), I was wholly unconscious of the honour done me 



What's in a Name"? 8l 

for months. I often heard the younger girls calling 
*' Helen " but it was a long time before I knew that 
Janet was my namesake. 

Dr. Gurney strongly disapproved of giving Eng- 
lish names to the wee black babies who came under 
his professional care. But one day while showing 
Mrs. Ferris the latest addition to our mission family 
he jokingly said, '^ We will have to call her Mabel, 
hey?" And from that on the name Mabeli was 
irrevocably fixed on the small miss by her parents 
and friends. 

We had our Isaiah, Ezra, Abraham, Isaac and 
Jacob. From the day they were baptized and 
solemnly congratulated with hand-shaking by their 
fellow Christians, they were always religiously called 
by their Christian names. Perhaps that was the right 
way to do but it was hard for us to bear in mind who 
was Isaiah and which was Ezekiel and we often 
lapsed into using the native names again. The 
thing that is of vital importance to us is that these 
boys and girls, these young men and young women 
have the Kew I^ame given them and are, indeed, 
sealed by the Holy Spirit. 



XV 

AN AFRICAN VANITY FAIR 

WHOSO wends his way to the Celestial City 
must needs pass through Vanity Fair. 
It may be in the gay Champs- Elysees of 
gayest Paris, in London's poverty-pinched White- 
chapel, the fierce Wall Street battle-ground of New 
York or in some obscure corner of a country town. 
But there is no evading it. So long as this world 
stands we shall have to pass through the inevitable 
Vanity Fair. 

We had been three weeks on the trail. By foot 
and by donkey we had averaged twenty miles a day. 
All this day we had travelled over the veld which 
was carpeted with a thistle an inch or two high so 
that our band of carriers were footsore and tired out. 

These were not ordinary carriers whom we had 
with us this time. They were eight of our senior 
boys who were in training for evangelists whom we 
had out on a 400 mile trip for practical instruction. 

We were also in unknown country full of big game 
and abounding in lions so we were anxious to get a 
guide. So when we came to a certain kraal at sun- 
down and the people told us that there was not 
another kraal near, we settled down for the night 
gladly. It was a large kraal but when we held a 
service in the evening, very few people came out. 
This was unusual and we wondered much at it. 

82 



An African Vanity Fair 83 

However, we hired a guide who told us that with 
one exception we would not pass another kraal for 
three days and that we would need to supply our- 
selves with food beforehand. 

We had not gone more than four miles the next 
morning when we heard the booming of a big drum 
and the shrill, ^'Yaii, yaii-yaii" of the women, 
which warned us that a native dance was in progress. 
We were not keen on taking our little Christian band 
through a drunken kraal in this remote and wild 
section but there was no escape ; for almost as soon 
as we heard the singing, the news of our coming had 
reached the people and they came dashing out to see 
the white woman, the first who had ever been there. 

This was a dilemma. We were depending on 
these natives to sell us food for the empty country 
ahead. We had been unable to get much at the last 
kraal as the people were all going to this dance and 
did not want to bother with us. 

Our guide truly wanted to go along with us to seek 
work but he also wanted the benefit of this beer en 
route. So he began telling us that we could not 
reach water again that day. We decided to stop long 
enough to eat and to buy. We had been eating only 
two meals a day so if we ate then, we could go until 
night. 

Used as I am to natives (and on that trip in par- 
ticular I had been an attraction unrivalled by 
Barnum's white elephant), I was considerably dis- 
concerted by the howling mob which surrounded us 
as soon as we dismounted and unsaddled our don- 
keys. 

I sat down on a log and began to write in my 



84 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

journal while one of our boys, Long Jake, began to 
barter. Some of the women came and looked over 
my shoulder to see me write and shouted their 
opinions as to my cleverness close to my ears. Some 
were selling millet meal to Jake ; some came with 
gourds of corn for the donkeys ; some were scream- 
ing for beads, some were shouting for salt. One 
woman suddenly shrieked out that the white man 
was taking a picture ; some were yelping one thing, 
and some another, and unutterable confusion 
reigned. 

A decrepit old hag comes and asks me to do the 
trading. She can't cheat Jake and she knows she 
can me. I tell her I do not know how to trade, and 
she turns and shouts this to the others. A little 
woman bends down close to my ear and begs for a 
needle. I have none. A poor wretch staggers up 
and asks me if I will buy a goat for money. I tell 
him that is my husband's business, not mine. A 
woman thrusts her face into mine, her breath reek- 
ing and her form reeling, and asks if I do not want 
to buy some beer. I assure her I do not, and she 
proclaims this loudly. 

Yonder, in his few filthy rags, lies the chief of the 
kraal, dead drunk. Over there lies another man, 
stretched out, sleeping off his dissipation. A younger 
debauchee makes himself odious to me by following 
me around, with persistent begging and flattery. 
There goes a woman trying to lead her staggering 
husband to his hut where he will be out of sight. He 
resists and she has to give up the task. 

At last the trading is over and we try to have a 
little service with them though it does seem like cast- 



An African Vanity Fair 85 

ing pearls before swine. Still it is our work to scat- 
ter the seed broadcast. They are all too drunk to 
take in much that we say, if anything, or even to 
keep quiet. The young rake drops off to sleep. 
Near him an old man, in indecent array, sits in the 
centre of the group and alternately dozes and shouts 
to the others to keep quiet. It would be humorous 
if it were not so pathetic. There they are, boys and 
girls, youths and maidens, old men and old women, 
all insufficiently clothed and all more or less drunk. 
Even the babes at the breast have been affected by 
the intoxication of their mothers. 

Poor souls ! Far removed from civilization, in one 
of the most remote and unfrequented parts of 
Ehodesia, they live the same lives their fathers have 
lived and no one has told them of a better way. 

This is heathenism at home as it really is, divested 
of all its romance, — vile, sensual, devilish. We 
shudder at the repulsiveness of those never-washed 
bodies and the indescribable filth of the whole kraal. 
We shrink with disgust from the sight and sounds of 
this sin-polluted place. 

There is often an idea at home that missionaries do 
not mind these offensive features so much. On the 
contrary, the missionary gets to loathe them more and 
more as he comes to know more of the real life of the 
people and the first rosy-coloured romance of novelty 
wears away. 

What's the use then of staying ? Because we have 
seen rich jewels for the Master gathered out of just 
such communities as this. Two men went out of that 
kraal and accompanied us to Old Umtali where they 
worked for months at the mission. One was not 



86 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

promising but the other was a very decent, earnest 
sort of fellow who attended our meetings regularly. 

We cannot say what became of them. Sometimes 
we are privileged to trace direct results. Sometimes 
we cannot. But this we do know that many such 
young men have been found in after years to have ac- 
cepted Christ and to have lived a new life which has 
been the means of bringing about an entire revolu- 
tion in their old kraals. 

'^Now I saw in my dream, that Christian went not 
forth alone, for there was one whose name was Hope- 
ful who joined himself to him. This Hopeful also 
told Christian that there were many more of the men 
in the fair that would take their time and follow 
after.'' 




TRAVELLING BY OX WAGON 




ON THE TRAIL TO TETE 



XVI 

ON THE TRAIL TO TETE 

MISSION AEIES are often credited with most 
extraordinary statements wMch would sur- 
prise them even more than their readers. 
I have before me a copy of one of my letters home in 
which the copyist made me say that the Zambesi 
^^ was swarming with frogs who were used to human 
flesh. ^^ This may be a judgment on me for using 
the rather slangy term crocs instead of spelling croco- 
dile in full. 

For a week we had travelled through the dry, 
desert-like forest where we could only get water for 
cooking and baths were out of the question. Ac- 
cordingly we had looked and longed for the Big 
Eiver. 

The Zambesi was a disappointment to us as far as 
utility was concerned on account of its saurian in- 
habitants ; now although on the banks of the great 
river, we were able to get water enough for cooking 
only by tying our buckets to a long pole and care- 
fully dipping them into the river. 

At Cachoa the country became very mountainous 
and the trail led away from the river over one of the 
roughest mountain ranges I have ever seen. The 
donkeys had all they could do to look after them- 
selves which they did very willingly with much kick- 

87 



88 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

ing of heels whenever they got onto a place sufficiently 
level to admit of such capering. 

That night at Cachoa we had slept in the same 
house where Livingstone had been entertained a half 
a century before. The house was a large, roomy, 
massive affair, its thick walls and heavy shutters 
and doors having been made to stand against an at- 
tack of the enemy whether Portuguese or native. 
That was in the high day of slavery and the half- 
caste owner of this house was a nabob and a prince. 

The house was all falling in when we were there in 
1906, and had been abandoned as unsafe. As Mr. 
Springer was taken with a very heavy fever, we were 
put in one room that was considered reasonably safe, 
in order that I might be better able to care for him 
than in a tent. So the boys brought in grass and 
piled it on the floor in one corner, arranged our 
blankets and he went to bed about 2 p. M. 

The house, to repeat, was in a state of decay like 
the government whose slave trade had been its own 
undoing. The heavy rafters had been tunnelled by 
borers and the white ants until they bent, and in 
some places had already fallen in under the weight of 
the red tiles on the roof. Most of the rooms were lit- 
tered with dirt and rubbish and the only occupants 
were the rats or a chance snake which came to hunt 
them down. 

I was glad when the morning dawned for my hus- 
band had been more or less delirious all night and I 
felt none too comfortable in the gloomy old ruin all 
alone. As he felt better, we got onto the trail as early 
as possible for we had learned in the sultry Zambesi 
valley to travel early and late (usually whether sick 



On the Trail to Tete 89 

or well) and keep in the shade through the heat of the 
day from ten till four. 

We were now to go around the Kabrabasa Eapids 
by an inland route. We had been told that water 
was scarce and so took two of our canvass buckets 
full when we left Cachoa. After ten miles, we had 
our breakfast and rested in the shade of some fine, 
big trees. At three, we went on about four miles 
when we came to a camping place for caravans. 
Here we found a hole in the ground into which water 
slowly seeped. But in order to dip it out, each car- 
rier had to step into the hole with one foot. That 
day some 200 carriers had possibly stepped into the 
hole. We had met them on the trail and so decided 
that we would do without water and food until we 
could find something better. For it is hard to find a 
iiative who is not affected directly or indirectly with 
some loathsome disease. Leprosy is very common, 
ulcers abound, a horrible eczema prevails and other 
things unmentionable. So our refusal to use that 
water was not on purely fastidious grounds. 

However, our boys cooked their food and drank 
the water, though they laughed and made wry faces 
and admitted the water wasn't exactly up to the mark. 
It was five o'clock when we started out again and the 
short tropical twilight soon gave way to the light of 
the moon. We began to climb wearily and made 
poor time, but mile after mile passed and we reached 
what seemed the top of a range of high hills and yet 
no sign of water. 

After nine miles, I announced that I could not go 
another rod, and as we were in quite a woods where 
the boys could have a fire to protect them from the 



go Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

wild beasts, leopards were especially thick in that 
section and lions quite numerous, we camped and 
spent a restless night dreaming about streams and 
fountains, ever trying to get a drink. 

With the first gray of the dawn, we were on the 
trail again descending to the plain where we knew we 
must reach water. Soon our eyes were gladdened 
with the sight of fields of Kaffir corn. Now there 
must be water. After another mile, which seemed 
like two, we met a couple of men. 

^^ Where is the water ? '' we asked. 

^*It isn't very near,'' they replied, ^^and it isn't 
very good. There are snakes in it." 

Now the word for snake is nyoJca, and it is used also 
for a pain in the stomach, so we were in doubt as to 
what was meant. None of our boys could talk flu- 
ently with the men, being of another tribe. But we 
all wanted to find water and were willing to take, as 
we thought, most anything. 

Two miles further, we came to an opening where 
there were twenty or more men and women gathered 
around a bare spot. There were as many large black 
clay water jars, some of which were filled with an 
opaque, slimy fluid. The other jars were empty. 

^^Here," said the man who had guided us to the 
place for a box of matches, ^'here is the water," and 
he took us over to a hole in the side of a black clay 
bank. The hole might have been four feet deep, but 
ran diagonally into the bank. At the bottom, the 
water was slowly oozing through, but before there 
could be enough for the waiting women to dip it out, 
it had to cover one tangled, slimy, crawling mass of 
glazy, black frogs which bore little resemblance to 



On the Trail to Tete 91 

the pretty, bright green, cheery, bass-toned playfel- 
lows of our childhood days. These frogs appeared to 
be sightless and half dead. 

^* Why in the world don't they take them out ? " I 
exclaimed shuddering. 

^'Because they are afraid they would displease the 
water spirits (bad spirits) and the water would cease 
to come at all." 

^*Do you want to stop here and eat?" was asked 
the boys. Daniel, the spokesman, was quick to give 
an emphatic negative. Jake shook his head with a 
comical grin. [N'ot a boy would consent to stay. So 
we had to retrace our way a half mile back to the 
main trail and then trek four miles more until we 
came to another of the numerous sand rivers in that 
region. Here the natives had several holes from two 
to twelve feet deep where we could get a clean though 
whitish water. Here too the natives crowded cu- 
riously about us bringing food for sale while we were 
able to tell them who we were and somewhat about 
that water of Life which Christ has promised so freely 
and which the Church deals out so sparingly that 
these poor souls had never heard of it before nor will 
they for a long time again. 



XVII 

A TALE OF TWO DONKEYS 

THE first big thing 1 ever prayed for in my 
life was a donkey, and it took considerable 
coaxing of my faith to do that. I was so 
afraid I might be presumptuous and be asking too 
much: for donkeys were costing then about $200 
each. The Master says, ' ' Ask largely : herein is My 
Father glorified," and then we resort to all sorts of 
dodges, lest if we do ask we may embarrass Him. 

So I did a lot of quibbling before I asked for the 
donkey. It wasn't exactly an absolute necessity, as 
I have ever been a fairly good pedestrian. I could 
not even claim it on the ground of health, for I was 
nearly five years in Ehodesia before I had a fever and 
I was not able to foresee what a blessing a donkey 
would be to me then. But I did know that I could 
do more effective work if I had a quadruped, and so 
at last I very tremblingly stepped out on His prom- 
ises and prayed for the donkey, all the while telling 
myself that if my prayer wasn't answered, I should 
know it was because I did not really need the 
donkey. 

No wonder that we find so oft repeated by the Mas- 
ter, * ' O ye of little faith ! " How our meanness must 
pain Him ! 'Now as nearly as I can figure out, all the 
time I was metaphorically standing first on one foot 
and then on the other trying to decide which way to 

92 



A Tale of Two Donkeys 93 

go, tlie money was on the way, sent by a woman of 
God in Yineland, New Jersey. 

Jack's master died and he was put in the hands of 
an auctioneer for sale. One day when Mr. Springer 
was over to Umtali, this man said that he heard I 
wanted a donkey, and here was one for only $150, 
and he would throw off his own commission and that 
would make him $140. So Jack became my prop- 
erty. He worked for his board down at the mission 
stables the while I was under the Woman's Board, 
and many a trip to the kraals he carried me between 
times. 

However, as an unmarried woman I could not make 
extensive journeys, but after my marriage I was able 
to accompany my husband on the wider circles of the 
district of which he was presiding elder. Altogether 
little Jackie must have carried me more than 2,000 
miles by native trail. 

As a rule Jack was a gentle, sociable, friendly little 
beast, an ideal lady's riding donkey. His one weak- 
ness was his unwillingness to tolerate a rival. He 
was ready to fight to the finish any donkey who made 
pretense of braying louder than he did. 

So when two new donkeys were added to the mis- 
sion equipment and one of them was chosen to go on 
a 400 mile trip with Jack, he was quite willing to 
make friends. The newcomer couldn't bray. Jack 
was quite willing to do all the braying for them both. 
The new donkey was as black as Jack was white so 
we called him Nig. 

Nig had never been broken to the saddle before 
and did not receive his burden on his back with good 
grace. For the first week, he was continually bolt- 



94 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

ing from, the path to wipe off that load under the 
low limbs of the trees. This not only proved annoy- 
ing to the rider but as Jack always insisted in follow- 
ing suit to see what was going on, it was difficult for 
me to keep my own neck safe. 

After a week's time, the two were inseparable. It 
was impossible to hold one if the other was out of 
sight. And yet when they were together they quar- 
relled. Many a night we were kept awake with 
Nig's kicking and squealing until Mr. Springer 
would have to get up and give them both a thrash- 
ing. That seemed to satisfy them and they would 
keep tolerably quiet the rest of the night. 

"When we dismounted and walked along the trail 
to rest our backs and theirs, we always tied their 
reins to the saddles and sent them ahead. Off they 
would trot with a frisky kick of the heels, Jack fre- 
quently stopping to look around as much as to say, 
''Are you coming?'' But when he heard the loud 
*' Anno" for him to wait, he would slyly wink an 
ear, kick up his heels, give Nig a nip in the thigh 
and the two would scamper off like two naughty boys. 

One night we were down in the Sena district and 
came to a kraal at about sundown. As usual we 
asked the chief where we could pitch our tent for the 
night. He replied that he would not consent to our 
putting up our tent at all. That the lions were so 
thick and so bold in that section that he would not 
risk having any white man's blood on his head. It 
was a small kraal so he said he could not let us have 
a hut either but if we wished, we might sleep over 
the goat pen. l!^ow this particular goat pen was the 
strongest one I ever saw or smelled. It was built of 



A Tale of Two Donkeys 95 

large poles so to be lion proof. On the top of it was 
a small grainery which was reached by a ladder. I 
objected to the grainery on account of the odour. 
Moreover, we could not leave the donkeys out to be 
eaten. The boys could all find shelter and protec- 
tion, — if not comfort, — in a dilapidated hut used for 
the kraal boys and single men. 

What should we do ? Darkness was already upon 
us so we could not go on nor go back. At last the 
chief very unwillingly consented to let us have one 
hut for the night. There seemed no other way but 
to take the donkeys in with us, giving them one-half 
of the hut and we taking the other. 

We ate our humble meal by the light of a slim bon- 
fire and then began to hold service as it was getting 
late and the native retires early. I noticed a group 
of women some distance away and calling to Daniel 
to come with me and bring the baby organ, I went 
over to them. They at once came around me and I 
talked to them in Chikaranga while one of their 
young men acted as interpreter into Chikunda. I 
shall never forget the earnest faces and earnest ques- 
tions of those women as I told again the Old, Old 
Story, ever new. There was one woman whose face 
was lined with sorrow who drank in my words with 
an eagerness which showed the hunger and thirst of 
her soul. I had our only lantern in which was a 
candle with me and it seemed to me that my coming 
to these women was like that tiny flame in the midst 
of the dense darkness. We sent Daniel and Jim 
back over that route to preach again and I hope that 
that one woman at least found the soul rest for which 
she was longing. 



96 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

The services over, we had the task of stowing our- 
selves away for the night. At the very outset there 
was trouble with the donkeys who objected to being 
crowded through that narrow door. Jack, being the 
smaller and more amenable to reason, was pulled in 
first when Nig crowded after him in haste. 

We had partitioned the hut off with poles and 
made a partition between the two donkeys so we 
thought they would be quiet. They seemed peace- 
able enough when we crept in between our blankets 
with our clothes on as usual. 

For a half hour there was nothing to disturb us 
but the incessant buzzing of mosquitoes and biting of 
fleas. The fleas were also stirring up the donkeys 
who began to get restless and move around. Mr. 
Springer shouted to them to keep quiet and there 
was a lull. Soon they began prancing around again 
so he got up and tied them more securely. He had 
hardly laid down again when there was a scrimmage 
between the two donkeys and we jumped up just in 
time to save ourselves as Jack fell over the poles and 
rolled onto the bed speeded by Mg's heels. 

It was then eleven o^ clock and we were dead tired 
from daily marches and much fever. So the decree 
went forth and one donkey with it. Nig. He was 
tied out under the eaves where he and Jack could 
smell noses through the cracks but not touch each 
other. The tent was tied around the back of him so 
to give all possible protection. And then we went 
to sleep while Jack behaved himself until morning. 

It was a week later on a Monday morning that we 
found ourselves at the foothills of the high plateau 
on which Old Umtali is situated. There was a climb 



A Tale of Two Donkeys 97 

of some 3,000 feet ahead of us and we were both weak- 
ened by fever. For weeks we had had fever nearly 
every day and as our rations had been unvaried rice 
and salmon, we had not been able to eat, either. 
How we ever made it, I hardly know. But the last 
half mile was less steep than the rest, as there were 
no boulders but only a steady ascent. I had dragged 
my aching body as far as it seemed I could. Mr. 
Springer put his saddle on Jack and placed me in 
the saddle. It was a stiff climb but I determined to 
stay on as long as Jack would carry me for if it got 
to the impossible, I knew he would stop. 

Jack started off bravely. The path grew steeper 
but he only dug his little hoofs into the ground and 
kept on climbing. At last it was so steep that I 
leaned over, put my arms around his neck and flat- 
tened myself on his back and in that way, with much 
hard panting, he got me to the top. 

And what a magnificent panorama of mountain, 
valley and plain was spread out before us as we stood 
there at the head of that Hundi Yalley into which 
we had gone for the first time the year before. 
During this time we had had several boys come to 
our school from that vicinity. A nd the time will soon 
come when that region will ring with the songs of the 
children in school and when on Sabbath days the 
sweet toned bell on some native chapel will summons 
the Yalley to praise and to prayer. 



xvni 

THE GLORIOUS FOURTH IN AFRICA 

IT was on Monday, July 3, 1905, that we broke 
camp anew after a rather unsatisfactory Sun- 
day at M'Eewa^s, one of the largest kraals in 
Southern Ehodesia. A large crowd had gathered 
around us on our arrival and all the rest of Saturday 
afternoon we were besieged with visitors. But the 
word had gone out that we were there to steal the 
children to cut up and make them up into medicine 
for witchcraft and at once there was a marked change 
in their attitude. Instead of running after us in a 
perfect mob, they ran away as hard as they could. 
Sunday morning most of the mothers bundled their 
babies onto their backs and left for their gardens. 
So Sunday we could not get an audience anywhere. 

Monday morning we once more got onto the trail. 
There were Charley, Vega, Philip, Samuel, Tom, 
Stephen, Mukanganwa [and Nyasha, all of whom 
were in training for the ministry and who are now 
engaged as Christian workers in the mission. They 
with one other boy, the two donkeys and ourselves 
formed our little caravan. 

Leaving the M'Eewa police camp at eleven o'clock 
we took as our next objective point the M'Toko 
police camp forty miles away. We had been told 
that there was water all along the trail and we 
could camp anywhere. So there was if one but 

98 



The Glorious Fourth in Africa 99 

knew where to find it. We did not and as there 
were no cross trails leading to it, darkness fell and 
we had found no place where we could camp. 

Two natives passed us just at dusk and we asked 
them where there was water. They replied it was at 
the river and they were hurrying towards it for the 
night. As they had no loads, they went on and soon 
disappeared in the rapidly deepening twilight. 

We were going down a mountain range to the 
Nyandirj Eiver. I walked as fast as I could in the 
darkness fearing to ride, but my strength gave out so 
I had to mount. Mr. Springer walked behind Mg 
switching his legs now and then so that he trotted on 
almost out of Jack's sight. This made Jack hurry 
on after him, forgetting his own tired little legs. 

After four miles in the darkness, the sound of 
rushing waters warned us that the river was close at 
hand. The boys put down their loads and begged to 
camp where they were. They said they did not 
know the river and did not like to cross in the dark. 
Besides they were too tired to go further. But there 
were too many lions in this vicinity for us to think 
of camping in the open. It was here that Mr. Kell 
had been killed by lions two years previously. It 
was so dangerous that the government had built a 
lion proof caravansary for travellers, mostly native 
police. 

So the boys lighted the candle in the lantern 
and Vega started with it down the steep embank- 
ment towards the river and carefully made his way 
across, the others following. But we could not cross 
where they did on our donkeys and we did not feel 
like wading unless it was necessary. 



lOO Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

So with many a plunge into some deep pool, a 
stumble over a rock and the danger of being any 
moment precipitated into the stream, we finally got 
safely over and climbed the bank on the other side. 

But there was not a sign of the caravansary. 
"Where could it be? At last after much searching 
along the trail with the lantern for a path leading off 
from it, we spied a light about a quarter of a mile 
away and started for it stumbling along over rough 
native gardens, shivering with the cold. 

The caravansary was a yard enclosed by a high 
circular fence of strong poles placed close together so 
no lion could break through nor jump over. There 
were also two huts, one in which the native guard 
and his family lived and the other for strangers. 
The latter was already full of natives. 

There was no place for us to pitch our tents, and 
only a little wood for a fire so we drank some hot 
coffee, wrapped up in our blankets and tried to sleep 
but could not for the bitter cold. When the morn- 
ing dawned, the ground was all white with hoar-frost. 

Our boys cooked the supper they did not get the 
night before for breakfast, and it was late when we 
started. The frosty ground chaps their bare feet 
badly if they are forced to go out on it in the early 
morning. So we do not compel them to start early 
on such mornings. 

Then began an ascent on the other side. About 
three miles on, we met a native police, or black 
watch, and asked him how far it was to M' Toko's. 
''Just at hand," he exclaimed encouragingly; ^'I 
just left there this morning." The heathen African 
is perhaps the most cheerful liar in the world. 



The Glorious Fourth in Africa loi 

Noon found us still toiling along in heavy white 
sand while the sun shone blisteringly over our heads. 
We came to an almost stagnant stream of milky 
water and decided to stop for lunch. About one 
o'clock we started on thinking we surely were almost 
there. Soon we met a native man and woman. 
^^ Where is M' Toko's? " we asked. " Ah !" he ex- 
claimed his face lighting up with pleasurable antici- 
pation of a reward for his information, ^' you are 
there already. When will you get there? Zwino- 
zwinOj just now, this minute." '^ Zwinozwino,^^ 
snorted the boys, ''it's all ^m^o^wmo with these 
natives here. They're awful liars." Which was be- 
yond dispute true. 

At three o'clock we came to the only sign-board 
we have ever seen in over 3,000 miles trekking. In 
weather- washed lettering we read, ''To M'Toko 
Police Camp." Our courage revived. Surely we 
must be near there now. But the old wagon road 
was so overgrown that it soon was obliterated and 
several times we lost it in the long grass as we 
crossed some swampy place or old abandoned native 
gardens. 

At four o'clock we came to a kraal and asked a 
young man the way to M' Toko's. "You are in the 
most direct path now," he answered. "You will 
get there when the sun goes down." This was, I be- 
lieve, the only truthful and direct answer from a 
native on all that trip of nearly 400 miles and there- 
fore deserves special mention. 

Sure enough, five miles further, we came to the 
camp where two white troopers and a corporal might 
be said to be buried alive. No white woman had ever 



102 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

visited that camp before and very few men. There 
was little work to be done, and almost nothing to read. 
They were practically cut off from all the outside 
world in which they had grown up, buried alive in the 
midst of a savage people and untouched heathenism. 

Said one white man to us, ''Take the Gospel to 
these Africans for our sakes if not for theirs. They 
will surely drag us down if we, as a superior race, do 
not lift them up." 

We spent the evening with the three lonely white 
men who had not seen a white woman for so long that 
they hardly knew how to act. They felt like school- 
boys of the awkward age again. One brought in his 
mascot, a queer, beautifully marked wild animal that 
he had caught and tamed. This broke the ice and 
conversation flowed freely. Before they left, we had 
evening prayers, a fitting close for that long-to-be-re- 
membered Fourth. 



XIX 

CHRISTMAS AT OLD UMTALI 

WHENEVER I think of that first big cele- 
bration of Christmas at the mission, there 
comes up before me the picture of Philip 
(he was only TJseni then) as I saw him coming back 
from the kraals with the Christmas dinner. 

Mr. Springer had given him and Yurungu (Jacob) 
five dollars and had sent them away to do their best 
in buying meat for the feast. Philip was a senior : 
Jacob was still classed among the ^'picanines," as the 
boys called them. Jacob was the old king^s grand- 
son and he knew it well. So did the natives and that 
was why he was sent with Philip to help drive a 
bargain. 

The next morning I heard a noise, and looking out 
my back door saw Philip in the wake of two lively 
goats which were trying to pull him along at a pace 
that was incompatible with his dignity. He was 
dressed in a long, black rubber rain coat which came 
down to his bare feet and was buttoned up tight to 
the chin. On his head was a black derby hat while 
his usually sunny face was as grave as a deacon's. 
Was he not the important bearer of the Christmas 
dinner ? Behind him was Jacob with a rooster under 
each arm. (He had bought and paid for them 
though.) Once the two goats were safely tethered 

103 



104 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

out in the side yard, Philip relaxed and entered into 
the prevailing air of festivity. 

Daniel had been told off to decorate the church so 
he marshalled his band of youthful assistants, had 
them form in military line and march for the veld 
like young soldiers. Daniel had a real passion for 
drilling all the small boys, himself being the com- 
manding officer, of course. And the small boys en- 
joyed it too. Daniel's band would have put to shame 
the native soldiers whom we saw drilling in a go-as- 
you-please manner near Malange. That kind of 
thing would not have done for Daniel. In person he 
was so straight that he almost bent backward : in 
character he was the same and his religious doctrine 
measured up to his character. So he marched the 
small fry away and later on they came marching 
back with palm leaves for guns, lustily singing, ^' On- 
ward Christian Soldiers.'^ 

Daniel trimmed the church handsomely and in the 
afternoon I found him in the compound presiding 
over the kitchen where a dozen or so boys had 
clubbed together to make cakes, pies and other in- 
digestible pasties out of flour, sugar, etc., that they 
had bought with their saved-up money. One pie was 
made with two thick, unshortened crusts, the filling 
consisting of native honey. However, the boys were 
all blessed with good appetites and equally good 
digestions. 

Christmas eve the suppressed enthusiasm of the 
day gave way to a burst of song. They sang the 
hymn-book through and back again and our little 
valley was a flood of melody until nearly midnight. 

Although it was our midsummer, the morning 



Christmas at Old Umtali 105 

dawned ratlier cliill and misty. Heavy white clouds 
hung over the top of Mt. Hartzell and a thick fog 
hovered over the spruit. But nothing daunted by 
the late hour of the previous evening or the cold of 
the morning, every student was out by the first gray 
of the dawn to march in line around to the three 
houses of the white missionaries, singing Christmas 
carols. The Boer farm overseer's wife told me with 
tears in her eyes that when she first awakened and 
heard the singing in the distance, she thought she 
must be in heaven. 

At nine o'clock the call for church was sounded on 
a broken crowbar which had been hung up in place 
of the bell which came three years later. Our boys 
arrived promptly with faces duly solemnized for the 
occasion. Whatever other apparel the native African 
may lack, he is always able to clothe himself with 
dignity as with a garment. "With the boys were a 
few native guests who had been invited by their 
friends and brothers, — enough to spread the word 
about the country so that the next year there were 
four times as many others from the kraals. Among 
the guests^as Mukonyerwa, Jacob's sister, soon to be 
Kaduku's fiancee. 

The two little Boer girls had been made glad with 
white dresses and new dolls and their mother by 
means of hard work and fine calculations had 
managed to buy them shoes and ivMte parasols. Even 
the fifty carved ebony faces lighted up with admira- 
tion and pleasure as the two flaxen-haired lassies, ar- 
rayed like little angels, softly tiptoed up the aisle and 
took their usual places on the front seat. 

After the singing, the praying and the short 



io6 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

Christmas sermon, the gifts were distributed. The 
mission could not afford luxuries but the new hymn- 
books for the older boys and enamel plates and tin 
spoons for the younger ones were thoroughly appre- 
ciated. 

Then came the dinner, and two goats did not go 
very far when they had to be distributed among sixty 
persons. But there was plenty of rice and the cooks 
saw to it that there was plenty of gravy. On account 
of the extra and unexpected visitors, we added to the 
menu a few tins of salmon, a slice of bread for each 
person and some peanuts. 

One of the amusing features was the setting of the 
tables. All the new plates and spoons had to be 
turned over to Stephen and Philip. Some of the 
boys were the wealthy owners of agate cups. Care- 
fully opened milk tins had to serve for the rest. But 
there were not enough of them, so there was a hur- 
ried search made in all the houses and every possible 
place where a milk tin might be found to eke out 
enough. The table-cloths were of unbleached muslin 
and Daniel came to the front to lay flowers on the 
cloths and arrange bouquets of flowers of which there 
were plenty. 

The early morning mist had soon disappeared and 
the rest of the day was cloudless and exceedingly hot. 

The goats and rice dispatched, the boys took to 
playing the graceful and musical native game of ball. 
At four o' clock the school bell rang vigorously and I 
hurried over to the compound to see whether it was 
a fire or what. To my surprise the boys were about 
to serve afternoon tea, on which occasion the pastries 
of the previous day played an important part. One 



Christmas at Old Umtali 107 

table was set for the girls and women and another for 
the boys. Mutisiswa looked up with a shy smile (she 
and Philip were not engaged then), Marita beamed 
with satisfaction and a happy tea party was soon in 
session. 

At six o'clock the wash-boiler was put on the stove 
in my kitchen. When the water boiled, I put in a 
half a pound of tea, three or four tins of milk and 
sugar enough to make it real sweet. In the mean- 
time, Stephen was getting the tables set again in the 
schoolroom, and one extra table near the door was set 
— unknown to me but with Benjamin's supervision — 
with my table-cloth and dishes, and when I went over 
to see if everything was all right Daniel politely 
bowed me to a seat at that table where I was soon 
joined by Mr. Springer and the Lawrence family. 

Stephen was head waiter and master of ceremonies. 
Years of experience working for whites had made 
both him and Samuel expert table waiters. These 
two were also able to manage the small boys. We all 
laughed most heartily to hear Stephen as he passed 
the biscuits, say, ^'Take one," in English, nor would 
they have dared take more at each passing. 

They ate a little and sang much that evening. 
Beaching over to one of the bouquets, Benjamin took 
some sprigs of bright purple boganvilliar and put it 
in his hair and over his ears. Others followed his ex- 
ample until nearly every woolly head was brilliantly 
and sometimes grotesquely ornamented with flowers. 
Daniel usually led the singing as he was best able to 
pitch a tune and carry it through, which is quite an 
achievement when there are at least twenty lusty 
singers who know neither the tune nor the words. 



io8 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

Jim got up and recited eighteen verses of the tenth 
of John, in English, to the great admiration of the 
boys while Gumba, his "friend,'^ dropped her eyes 
on the table as if blinded by his brilliancy. Charley 
Potter, being our best reader, gave us the poem, 
^'Hark what mean those holy voices,'' in English, 
and then the whole crowd sang it lustily in the ver- 
nacular. Others read and recited both English and 
Chikaranga. And thus with fresh relays of tea three 
hours passed merrily away. Then they rose, sang 
the doxology and asked for the benediction, which 
was no sooner given than Daniel, without the least 
irreverence on his part, called for three cheers and a 
tiger. 

We had all had one of the merriest of Merry Christ- 
mases. 



XX 

WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK 

MISSION AEIES are quite as human as other 
people, — in fact a little more so owing to 
the narrow circle of social life in which they 
are placed. Moreover, they do not (as is so often sup- 
posed) spend all their time in teaching the poor 
heathen the way to heaven, — that is not directly. 

Usually there isn't anything the missionary has 
ever learned to do in his life that he doesn't have to 
do again on the foreign field, particularly in a primi- 
tive field like Africa. And in addition to these, he 
has to turn his hand to half a hundred things of which 
he never dreamt. 

One of the first things this missionary of whom I 
write had to do on the field was to drive a span of 
oxen, eight yoke to the span. Then the oxen all died 
of Eed Water Fever and donkeys took their place. 
Not a few of them shuffled off their leather reims with 
pyemia and the rest still remain in the service. This 
story has to do with the ones which survived. 

There were two white men, both Yankees, hailing 
from the Middle West : they both had the unmistaka- 
ble Yankee twang and Yankee drawl : moreover they 
were both endowed by nature with the enjoyment of 
driving a sharp bargain : and they had both been 
bred on the prairies where they had known the joy 
of swapping horses : and they met in Africa. 

109 



no Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

The one was a road- maker for tlie Chartered Com- 
pany and the other a clerical looking missionary. 
The road-builder had two span of donkeys, eighteen 
in each span, while the missionary was at the head 
of a mission which owned one span. In the course 
of his going and coming, the missionary often passed 
the other on the road, and as is the custom of Western 
men, usually stopped his mule for a few words of 
friendly chat. 

^' I say," drawled the road-builder as they met one 
hot day, ^' don't want to trade a donkey, do you ? " 

Inwardly the instincts and training of twenty years 
ago made the missionary prick up his ears and an- 
swer cautiously, even indifferently as he flicked an 
imaginary fly off the mule's back, ^' O I don't know. 
Hadn't thought of it." 

The road-builder squirted out a mouthful of tobacco 
juice, pushed back his hat, took a sight with one eye 
on the distant range of mountains, cleared his throat 
and said, "Wa-al, yer see it's this way : I've only 
one white donkey in my lot and I noticed the other 
day 's your team wus goin' by that you' d only one 
white donkey in your span. I hate to see donkeys 
odd mated an' I thought I'd just speak to you 'n^ 
mebbe we could trade if it's all the same to you." 

^* Well," said the other, still with true Yankee cau- 
tion, ^'I'll be back this way to-morrow and I'll take 
a look at the one you want to trade and then we'll see 
abont it." 

"All right," said the road-builder as he turned 
back to his work and the other drove on with an in- 
ward chuckle. He knew only too well that his white 
donkey was the biggest, finest looking donkey in his 



When Greek Meets Greek ill 

span. And he knew that that was what had struck 
his compatriot's eye and not the aesthetic desire to 
have a well-mated team. He also knew that the 
white donkey was the laziest one in the lot. More 
than once it had been suggested that the white 
donkey be hitched with his head to the wagon in 
which case the rest of the span at least would be 
saved the trouble of pulling him along. Anything 
with four legs which could hold up the reims in 
Whitey's place was sure to be a bargain. 

He had not spent years on the Dakota prairies for 
nothing. When he came back and saw the poor, 
shabby little brown donkey to be swapped for the 
big white, he knew his conclusions were correct. 
However, he leisurely concluded the bargain and the 
shabby little mare held up the reims in Whitey' s 
place, did twice the work and in the course of six 
months presented the mission a nice little foal. 

Some time later as the missionary was passing by, 
he said, '^Haven't got another donkey you want to 
trade, have you?" 

"Dunno's I have,'^ replied the road-builder medi- 
tatively, ^'unless," he added again, putting his foot 
up onto the hub of the wheel and spitting sidewise 
into the middle of the road, ^'unless it's that white 
one." 

"He is kinder lazy, isn't he?" replied the mis- 
sionary in a confirmatory tone. 

"Yes," shortly added the other, "but," as if 
speaking out his mental vindication of his own case, 
" the other was a kinder lazy critter too." 

Five years have passed and there's another road- 
builder on that job now, but the last time the mis- 



112 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

sionary passed that way there was a white donkey 
with a big cow-bell on his neck out at grass by the 
side of the road. He had never been seen in the 
span. And so long as the Yankee stayed on the 
road-building job, he had one big, white donkey 
which he was willing to trade for anything of the 
long-eared species. 



XXI 

BUYING A TROUSSEAU 

KADUKTJ'S bare feet made only a slight 
swishing sound as lie swiftly descended the 
three steps which led from the mission 
home kitchen down into the room where he had his 
bed. It was a crude sort of bed made of old pro- 
vision box boards nailed onto two poles while four 
sticks nailed onto the corners acted as posts. It was 
a very rude production but the pride of Kaduku^s 
heart. He had made it himself. To be sure the legs 
were a bit unsteady and every now and then they 
collapsed entirely, when they had to be reset with 
much ostentation and vigorous hammering. So 
much the better. It only the better demonstrated 
to his fellows that he, Kaduku, the Little One, could 
hammer. 

Kaduku' s bed was neatly spread with three blan- 
kets and the crowning feature was a straw pillow on 
which was a gaily coloured pillow-case. Around the 
room were various pictures tacked up on the wall. 
Some were Sunday-school roll pictures which Charley 
had given him, some were those he had taken out of 
old magazines ; they were of infinite variety, ranging 
from Abraham on the Plains of Mamre to the latest 
races taken from '^The Graphic,'' while the highly- 
coloured print of King Edward and Queen Alexandria 
Stood out in bold relief against the ultra marine wall. 

113 



114 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

Kaduku sat down on the bed and drew out a little 
tin trunk in which his Sunday clothes and his hoarded 
wealth were kept, but not always secure. He had 
once taken in a passing friend to sleep with him 
and the friend had got away with six of Kaduku' s 
precious gold sovereigns. It was a heavy blow for 
the generous-hearted youth to be repaid with such 
treachery, so he had kept the trunk securely locked 
and wore the key about his neck thereafter. 

He had been saving ever since and now had ten of 
these bright pieces for a special purpose. He also 
took out his Sunday clothes, a rusty black and a 
most unbecoming suit, but the pride of his heart. 
Bid not the Mufundises wear black on Sunday ? And 
had he not risen to the dignity of Interpreter f If 
then his teachers wore black as a fitting apparel for 
the Sabbath day, he must wear it also. 

Dressed in his Sunday clothes, his leather shoes 
and socks, he put the precious gold coins in a purse 
and hurried out into the white, hot sunlight for a ten 
mile walk to town. 

I can see him now as he went down the road swing- 
ing his stocky little figure from side to side with a 
most self-important swagger. 

There are two kind of stores to be found in all 
European towns in Africa, — the so-called Kaffir Store 
where only the natives and Indians trade and the 
White Stores where the Europeans deal and where 
large profits are also gathered from a native trade. 
Many of the white men will curse the Kaffir roundly 
and the mission which ''pampers him so that he gets 
above his place." But if he comes into the same 
man's store with a handful of yellow sovereigns in 



Buying a Trousseau 115 

his pocket, — why tliaVs only business. This same 
man will spend a whole morning waiting on such a 
native, taking down everything he has on his shelves 
and showing him, for the time being, all the defer- 
ence that he would to the mayor or the president of 
the local bank. 

Kaduku knew a man who kept one of the best 
stores for whites and straight to him he went. 

"Good-morning, Kaduku," exclaimed the young 
man genially. He knew the short, stubby little fel- 
low well from frequent visits to the mission. 

*^ Good-morning, sir,'' was the polite reply. 

"Well, what can I do for you this morning? '' he 
asked. 

" I wish to make purchase of some lady's dress," 
said Kaduku. 

" Eight you are," was the retort. "Well, I've got 
just what you want. Do you want a suit or a skirt ? ' ' 

" I think I should like to see some blouse and some 
skirts, sir," was the reply. 

Kaduku was no raw Kaf&r to have anything 
palmed off on him. He had spent weeks thinking 
over this thing and knew pretty well what he wanted. 
But fortunately for him with his rather limited 
vocabulary relating to ladies' garments, the manager 
of the store also knew about what would suit Kaduku. 
He was willing to spend three or even four hours 
with him if need be. But owing to the mutual in- 
telligence of both parties, it only took about an hour 
for the transfer of the most of the golden sovereigns 
to the till and the wrapping of an immense bundle 
which looked half the size of Kaduku himself. 

Kaduku made one more pui'chase, a brass ring gilt- 



ii6 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

washed which lie put in his vest pocket ; then 
shouldering his bundle he started back over the 
mountain range for Old Umtali, the happiest boy in 
all that section. 

The sun was just setting as he arrived at the mis- 
sion home. Jim Gigita had the fire built and the 
kettle merrily boiling towards the master's supper in 
the large roomy kitchen. 

Kaduku hastily divested himself of the sweltering 
rusty black clothes and the shoes which pinched his 
unaccustomed feet and the socks which were the sure 
mark of his being a well dressed gentleman and then 
he spread out his purchases before the admiring gaze 
of his most intimate friend Jim whom he had known 
since the days when Jim herded Mr. Ehnes^ cow near 
Umtali. 

Jim's eyes fairly bulged with astonishment as he 
gazed at the marvellous array of finery while he 
rattled off a stream of ejaculations and favourable 
comments which would have led any hearer to think 
that there was the worst kind of a row going on. I 
used to step to the door frequently to see if there were 
a fight in the kitchen until I got used to Jim's way of 
talking. Brown's bulldog at Broken Hill used to 
growl most viciously at me every time I saw him and 
at first filled me with terror for he was a most savage 
looking brute. ^^ Don't be afraid of him, that's only 
his way of talking, ' ' his master said. So it was : he' d 
trot along with me down to the house growling all 
the way. He was perfectly harmless and good- 
natured. And so was Jim. 

Then Kaduku called in the master and lastly the 
missis who marvelled most of all as she compared 



Buying a Trousseau 117 

the fine array with her own simple wardrobe. That 
black broadcloth skirt in the latest style made her 
four-year-old flannel sink into insignificance. That 
handsome red blouse she had priced herself on her 
last trip to town but her purse-strings were two 
short. Then there were a pink petticoat and a blue 
petticoat, a tailored wash blouse and other articles 
of finery. 

The next Sunday the black skirt and red blouse 
appeared at morning service. I was playing the 
opening hymn at the time and so only noted out of 
the corner of my eye that something was not quite 
right. As I sat facing the audience, I saw later that 
the blouse was worn hind side fore. Being made to 
hook up behind, it was found more convenient to 
hook it in front. Such details do not matter. The 
petticoats were worn as dress skirts. The next time 
I saw the rich broadcloth, the owner had it on while 
washing out a cooking pot in the back yard. She 
wore no apron and my IsTew England conscience 
shrank from the desecration. But Mukonyerwa and 
Kaduku were perfectly happy. So long as Mukon- 
yerwa was dressed in the best clothes of any girl on 
the station, it mattered not to them what was the 
manner in which they were put on. 



xxn 

MUKONYERWA 

THE first time I saw Mukonyerwa was at lier 
grandfather's kraal. Jacob, her brother, 
had been in attendance upon the old man 
from the first of his illness. Now his mother, 
Muledzwa and his Aunt Shikanga had arrived on 
the scene to cook the old man's food so that he would 
not be unduly hurried out of this world by any of his 
forty more or less devoted wives. So Mukonyerwa 
and her little sister, Nenu, came with the mother. 

Shikanga' s daughter, Basi, her niece, Gumba, an- 
other one of the cousins, Shakedi (whom I was continu- 
ally confounding with Shaken i so I called her by her 
second name of Metapudzwa) and other girls spent 
the half of their time with me. So when the new 
cousin arrived, they rushed her off and the whole 
crowd came around the corner of the big boulder 
with loud shouts and boisterous laughing to introduce 
her to the Missisi Mufundisi. 

Of the group of girls, all of whom were grand- 
daughters of the old king, Mukonyerwa was the least 
prepossessing. She was then at the awkward age, 
large of frame, coarse featured, bold and brazen. 
Whenever the girls were around, her voice could al- 
ways be heard above all the others. She was as 
wild as an unbroken colt, running and racing hither 
and thither about the kraal, in marked contrast to 

118 




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Mukonyerwa 119 

her younger brother who carried himself with the 
quiet dignity of a prince, indeed. 

Her clothing consisted of a single piece of cotton 
cloth so dirty that I do not know if it had originally 
been white or coloured. Her whole person was dirty 
and unkempt. 

After I went back to the mission, she used to come 
and visit me from time to time as did the other girls. 
Once when she had an ulcer under the eyelid she had 
to come down for Dr. Gurney to treat her. She 
stayed with me two or more weeks at that time. She 
had on two kinds of cloth then, a piece of dark blue 
which was tied around her body just under the arms 
and another most fantastically designed red one 
which tied around her neck and hung down in the 
back. The sister was dressed the same way. The 
two girls happened to be present at Watapa's wed- 
ding and were in a photograph taken at the time, the 
large designs being the most prominent thing in the 
picture. 

By this time the girls had cleaned up considerably 
and I enjoyed their company and missed them when 
they were gone. Evening after evening they would 
come into my study as soon as their supper was 
eaten, sit down on the floor near my feet and say, 
^^Missisi, won't you show us some pictures?" And 
then I would get out some Sunday-school cards or 
the like and tell them stories until I was completely 
talked out. 

I shall never forget the keen, intense interest of 
these two girls as they listened night after night to 
this same story. 

But it was four years before Mukonyerwa came to 



120 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

us and said slie wanted to stay and attend the school, 
I was very ill in bed but when they told me that she 
had come, I rejoiced greatly. She had another girl 
with her. 

The next day two of Mtasa's men came to the 
mission and asked if the girls were there. We told 
them they were and called the girls out They tried 
to persuade the girls to return when, with a dash of 
the old roughness, they told the men to *^voetsak'^ 
(footsak) a term of indignity used properly only to 
dogs. It has been rightly said that there are few 
v/hite men or natives in South Africa and not a 
single dog who do not know this word. 

Sweating under the indignity, the two men went 
away and a couple of days later Gumba's stepfather, 
Chimbadzwa, Nsebe, who was the king's counseller, 
and another man came down to try and persuade the 
girls to go back with them. It is a rather odd thing 
that Chimbadzwa did not make any protest against 
Gumba's staying. He was bitterly opposed to mis- 
sion work but I never knew of his trying to get 
Gumba away from us. 

However, they argued and threatened Mukonyerwa 
and her friend until the girl who came with Mukon- 
yerwa went along with them. But Mukonyerwa was 
obdurate. She said she had made up her mind that 
she wanted to learn and nothing could induce her to 
go back. 

A few days more and Mtasa himself with Muledzwa 
and some thirty of the king's retainers armed with 
spears appeared on the scene. It began to look 
serious, Mtasa asked that all the missionaries on 
the place be assembled and that there be an open 



Mukonyerwa 121 

hearing. Doubtless lie thought that his display of 
arms would make an impression. 

The court was called and the girl came fearlessly 
before them and stoutly reiterated her determination 
to remain where she was. She told them frankly 
that she had not taken the step hastily but had been 
meditating coming to the mission for a long time. 

Muledzwa in hot temper charged the mission with 
having sent Kaduku to preach in the kraal and then 
secretly induce the girl to come to the mission. This 
Mukonyerwa denied. ''I love Kaduku, '^ she said 
candidly, ^'and I mean to marry him. But I did 
not come here because he was here. I had made up 
my mind to come in any case before he spoke to me 
about marriage. And I should stay here just the 
same even if something should prevent my marrying 
him.^' A statement which she afterwards proved. 

Finding she could not move her daughter either 
by appeal or by threat, Muledzwa turned and went 
off up the road raging in true heathenish fashion. 
She filled the air with her imprecations and threat- 
enings. 

The king, on the other hand, while he was angry 
and chagrined, saw a row of lemon trees which 
aroused his cupidity. He was an inveterate beggar 
whenever any opportunity presented itself. So now 
he pocketed his wrath in his smart riding suit which 
was his favourite attire and humbly asked for a 
lemon. Of course he got several as did all of his 
men. 

In the meantime, Kaduku h-ad come to Mr. 
Springer and asked permission to consider Mukon- 
yerwa a« his financ^e. The consent being given, he 



122 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

took the famous trip to TJmtali to buy her some 
clothes worthy of civilization. 

I used to regret the tendency of the girls to get at 
once into European clothes. Clothed they surely 
needed to be but it seemed to me this could better be 
accomplished by some oriental style of dress more 
hygienic than our occidental one. 

I think now that the existing circumstances and 
the contact the Africans have with white women, not 
only justify but commend a European style of cloth- 
ing. One bright, highly educated young woman of 
another part of Africa said that she had never 
known a mission girl to go back to heathenism as 
long as she wore her foreign clothing. But if she 
lapsed, the first sign of it was a return to the native 
garment or loin cloth. 

Six months later Mr. Springer was passing through 
Muledzwa's kraal. She was in her gardens and 
when she saw him, called out. She told him she 
was very glad, indeed, that her daughter was in 
the school. She was proud of the girl's sewing (and 
it was something any mother might be proud of). 
Was he going back to Old TJmtali now? She 
would show him a better ford than the one he came 
by and she went in person a mile or so to do it. 
Later on she asked that a native teacher might be 
sent to her kraal and she wanted Mukonyerwa. 
However, her wish was not granted. Her son Jacob 
was sent there instead. 

The path of true love did not run smooth for 
Mukonyerwa and the end of her first romance came 
at Kaduku's death. But she kept her word and re- 
mained in the mission, refusing all of the many other 



Mukonyerwa 1 23 

o£fers of marriage made to her during the next year. 
She also continued to wear the red blouse sometimes 
hooked up in front and sometimes in the back 
until her cousin Benjamin, who had a better knowl- 
edge of how white people dressed, invested in a 
black satine blouse, a black skirt and black petticoat 
which he gave her, a costume as unbecoming to the 
dark-skinned maiden as it was gloomy. 

Finally she settled on one of her many lovers and 
spoke the comforting word to Stephen who at once 
hastened to tell Mr. Springer who had also been be- 
sieged by the disappointed suitors to intercede for 
them until he was weary of them. 

Two years ago she and Stephen were married and 
have since been in charge of an out station. In one 
of his last letters, Solomon, in giving the general 
news, wrote, " Mukonyerwa he got son." 



xxm 

KADUKU, THE LITTLE ONE 

KADUKU, as we called him, had the distinc- 
tion of being the first boy in the school. 
Small beginnings must not be despised by a 
missionary. Mr. Greeley started the school at Old 
Umtali in 1900 with the one pupil, a youth who was 
working as second boy in his kitchen. Long Jake 
soon doubled the enrollment. The next year there 
were six or more. Then came a lot of piccaninnies 
from Mtasa's and so on until the last report in 1908 
showed about one hundred and twenty-five boys and 
seventy-five girls. 

Kaduku was not the first convert : that blessing 
was Charley Potter's. But he was one of the first 
converts and certainly one of the noblest Christian 
characters we had. 

He came to the mission straight from the kraal and 
wanted to work. He knew nothing about school, but 
he did know about money and wanted it. So he was 
engaged and set to scrubbing floors, which he did with 
the same energy which was manifested in everything 
through his short life. Soon he got to be the cook in 
the house and the interpreter in the mission, the first 
one we had. He was wonderfully clever in his studies. 
No boy could come near him in his knowledge of 
English. He was hopeless in mathematics, and 
Daniel, who only knew half as much and taught by 
main strength, was worth two of him as a teacher. 

124 



Kaduku, the Little One 125 

He was a funny shaped little fellow. In a nice 
shirt and snowy loin cloth, he passed as a fine look- 
ing boy. But the rusty black suit and not too well 
fitting pants exaggerated his peculiar build and made 
him almost grotesque in appearance. 

His was one of the sunniest dispositions I ever 
knew. He was always cheerful and laughing up to 
the time he became formally engaged to Mukon- 
yerwa whose tall, well built figure accentuated his 
own shortness. 

The trouble was that her mother and uncle being 
of the royal family, did not consider Kaduku, who 
was the son of a common man, as her equal. More- 
over there had been some difficulty in years gone by 
due to an intermarriage of the two families, and the 
feud had been handed down. Kaduku' s own people 
were the first to raise their voices against the match. 
His father and mother and uncle came down to the 
mission to see him about it for they feared the king 
would make trouble for them. Then they wanted 
Kaduka to come up to his kraal where the matter 
could be talked out. He went up with them, a dis- 
tance of twenty-five miles, and he was not very used 
to walking on the trail. That night when he ought 
to have slept, they all gathered round him, and the 
whole family history was rehearsed over and over 
again. They told him that if he married Mukonyerwa 
they must give his sister to Mtasa for one of his wives. 
They told of threats of the king which had reached 
their ears. They related most horrible stories of 
blood-curdling witchcrafts which had been known to 
be visited on those who committed a similar offense 
to that of Kaduku marrying Mukonyerwa. 



126 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

Could he but have laid down and snatched even an 
hour's sleep, his sunny spirit and faith in God would 
have risen above it all. Perhaps they knew that, so 
they kept tormenting him until he promised that he 
would go back to Old XJmtali the next morning and 
cancel the engagement. 

It was almost dusk when he arrived, his whole body 
shaking with nervousness, his eyes bloodshot and his 
talk almost incoherent. It was impossible to follow 
what he said. He knew no English to express the 
situation and even tripped and stumbled over his 
mother tongue. 

We did our best to help him and get affairs straight- 
ened out but it was useless, as we knew afterwards. 
That fifty mile walk and that horrible night had got 
in their work. He complained continually of being 
tired and often showed signs of being very dull. We 
could not think what was the matter with him. To 
all outward appearances, he and Mukonyerwa were 
on as good terms as ever. With her usual strength 
of character, she had refused to pay any attention to 
the objections of her mother or uncle, and after a while 
both families withdrew all objections to the marriage. 

But Kaduku began to decline rapidily in health 
until Mr. Springer finally sent him to the best phy- 
sician in TJmtali, who gave him a thorough examina- 
tion but could find nothing serious the matter with 
him. Still he continued to droop. He no longer 
was able to take any pleasure even in his old bicycle 
which had been his most boyish delight. 

It is more than probable that the curses which his 
people kept hanging like Damocles^ sword over his 
head began to affect his brain which in a few months 



Kaduku, the Little One 127 

gave way entirely. We gave him the best treatment 
we could at the mission but without avail. 

Then his father and mother arrived and said that 
once he had had a similar attack before ever he came 
to the mission and they could cure him. Muledzwa 
came also and urged that he be allowed to go home 
with his parents. She seemed most solicitous for him. 
So we let him go. 

A week or so later a messenger came in with a note 
from Benjamin who had been sent up to see how 
Kaduku was getting along. "We got here just in 
time to see Kaduku die. We want you to come 
quick. We do not want Kaduku to have heathen 
burial. We want him taken to Old Umtali.'' 

A half hour later, Mr. Springer sprang into the 
saddle and pushed the mule with all possible haste to 
the kraal where the loyal mission boys were staying 
with Kaduku' s body. The next morning they bore 
his corpse onto the mission grounds amid a great hush 
of sorrow which swelled every heart. 

That afternoon we gathered in the little chapel 
where Kaduku had so often acted as interpreter. 
There were not only our own mission boys and girls 
but a large number of visitors from Kaduku' s neigh- 
bourhood, natives who were attending a Christian 
burial for the first time. 

The cof&n was covered with plain white muslin and 
heaped with beautiful flowers gathered and placed 
there by the pupils themselves. The hymn was an- 
nounced and the congregation solemnly rose to its feet 
and began singing in an exquisite minor, ' ' Thou O 
God art Saviour," but the tune wavered and at times 
almost broke as one after another voice failed. 



128 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

Emotion nearly overcame the preacher as he started 
to give a short talk at this his first native Christian 
funeral. Mukonyerwa's head was bent and she was 
weeping silently. 

As I sat there in that crowded church, my mind 
went back to the first native funeral I had seen at 
Mtasa's, four years previously. I had been living for 
weeks in Mtasa's kraal in the midst of the drunken, 
fighting, wrangling crowd, so that when the first 
shrieks pierced the air that morning, I paid very little 
attention. Screaming women were no novelty. 

Soon, however, the screams were taken up by scores 
of women and girls, who were hurrying past my hut, 
and I hastened out to see what could be the matter. 
Every one in the upper end of the kraal seemed to 
be rushing in one direction and the air was pierced 
with the peculiar scream of the women. 

I put on my hat and joined the procession, which 
soon took me to the hut of a young man by the name 
of Benzi, a son of the old king. Here were rapidly 
congregating men, women and children — ^the men and 
boys silent and solemn j the females were all shriek- 
ing in an ear-splitting chorus with the tears rolling 
down their cheeks. 

I sat there in their midst and looked in wonder. 
This was a new phase of kraal life to me. There was 
Miss Impudence, one of the boldest, cheekiest, most 
shameless girls in the whole community, with streams 
of tears running down both cheeks. Was it sorrow I 
Her love for her cousin could hardly be as deep as all 
that. The Bantu are a very tender-hearted people 
and easily moved to sympathy along certain lines, so 
there was doubtless much genuine feeling in the girPs 



Kaduku, the Little One 129 

violent demonstration of grief. But it wasn't all 
grief. There was something else. 

Now came the Imp and the Terror ; they were little 
girls, and at times almost little fiends. But the pres- 
ence of death had subdued them and they joined in 
the frantic howling of their friends and relatives. 
And just here another fact was impressed upon me ; 
the crowd was mostly made up of relatives. Why, 
of course. The old king had forty wives then living 
and no one knows how many he had had in his long 
reign, so of children and grandchildren, their wives 
and husbands and their relations there were so many, 
that as a matter of fact they were all related to each 
other. 

On they came in fresh relays by tens and twenties 
and thirties, each new set of arrivals being the signal 
for a fresh outburst of tears and screams. It was 
more than grief j it was the superstitious scream of 
primitive man trying to frighten off the evil spirits 
which had at last seized upon poor Benzi, lest they, 
too, his hapless relatives, be carried off with him. 

After a while I went into the hut with the mourn- 
ers, not out of curiosity, but from pure sympathy and 
sadness. I had liked the bright young fellow who 
had made himself acquainted with us the first day of 
our arrival. And I could hardly realize that he who 
but two days before had attended the Sunday service 
and had asked several interested, intelligent ques- 
tions was thus snuffed out like the flame of a candle. 

So I went in, expecting to see the body. Imagine 
my horror to see only a large roll of cloth. For no 
sooner had the breath left the dead man's body than 
they had brought his knees up to his chin and tightly 



130 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

bound the whole body in yards and yards of un- 
bleached cotton cloth. 

I got out quickly into the air and sunshine. Ah ! 
there was no mistaking this for anything else but 
heathenism. Oh, how I did wish I could talk to the 
people and comfort them ! Alas ! At that time 
there were no words which could have conveyed the 
sentiments I wanted so much to express, for no words 
were to be found in their language for them. These 
words all had to be coined outright or else thoroughly 
remodelled by the missionaries. 

So I could only sit in silence, showing my sym- 
pathy by my presence, while the morning hours 
rolled away and the men were digging a grave. At 
last, about high noon, the grave was ready and so 
was the hastily improvised litter on which to carry 
the body. For an hour or so there had been com- 
parative quiet except for the wife, mother and sister 
of the dead man. These three had sat disconsolately 
just outside the hut wailing softly most of the time. 

But as the litter approached, once more the women 
lifted their voices and the air was again rent with 
their screams. And when the body was brought out 
of the door there was one frantic, agonized outburst 
of woe which would have moved the hardest heart. 

Benzi was to be buried under the shadow of a big 
rock not far away. Half-way up there, the frenzy of 
the women reached its height. They threw them- 
selves on the ground before the corpse and then jump- 
ing up, leaped into the air beating themselves in a 
very paroxysm of grief and terror. 

Then the procession moved on amidst the wild 
cries and gesticulations until they came to the rock. 



Kaduku, the Little One 131 

Here it was found that the grave was not big enough, 
so we all sat and waited about an hour for the work 
to be finished. As the natives had no shovels and 
the digging had to be done with native hoes, it was a 
slow process. 

The wild cries ceased almost suddenly and the 
women sat down in hopeless stolidity. At last the 
body would go in, and so it was placed in the hole 
made for it and the hole was well walled up with solid 
stone so that the prowling leopard or scavenger hyena 
could not dig it out. And then they all quietly dis- 
persed, cheerless, comfortless, apathy written on the 
faces of the chief mourners. 

Just one month would be allowed the wife and 
mother in which to bemoan Benzi's death. Then 
they became the property of the next of kin. 

Three weeks later I passed the hut where Benzi 
died (Charley Potter said he had been murdered in a 
drunken dance at his hut the night before the fu- 
neral) and it was being torn down. No one would 
live in the same hut in which he died. The hut des- 
troyed, the poor mother and wife treated as human 
chattels without souls or feelings, no hope for the 
world to come, — this was indeed the rule and reign 
of evil spirits ! 

Kaduku' s funeral was a touching scene. And yet 
how different from that heathen funeral we had wit- 
nessed at Mtasa's where frantic hopelessness had held 
sway. As we turned back from the newly made 
grave, there was still ringing in our ears, ^^ I am the 
resurrection and the life : he that believeth on Me, 
though he were dead, yet shall he live.'' 

We planted a scarlet hybiscus on his grave in 



131 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

token of our hope. Nearly every week Mukonyerwa 
placed a bouquet of flowers there. He being dead 
yet speaketh and Ms testimony in his death may 
have been more forcible than any sermon he might 
have preached had he lived. 



XXIV 

SUNDAY AT GANDANZARA'S 

THEY have a splendid native out-station at 
Gandanzara's now and Daniel is in charge. 
He has had great success. Daniel was sure 
to have success. As I said once before, he literally- 
taught by the sweat of his brow and preached hell- 
fire and brimstone. But he was thoroughly good as 
well as desperately in earnest. He was no ranter. 

He was not with us that first time we came to 
Gandanzara's kraal. Although only thirty-two miles 
from Old Umtali, we had never heard of the kraal 
before as it lay in a most out-of-the-way place tucked 
in among the mountains. We were looking for 
M'koni's kraal and found Gandanzara's. 

As we approached the fields of grain near the 
kraal, a well-dressed young man came to meet us and 
learning who we were, volunteered at once to show us 
a good camping place. He had attended a mission 
night school once himself for a few months at Salis- 
bury and was unfeignedly glad to see us. 

He led us more than a mile beyond the kraal up a 
very steep mountain where there was a fine stream of 
beautiful cold water. His choice of a camp site for 
us showed that he knew missionaries liked clean 
grass and plenty of pure water. Having had to 
camp the night previously on a waterless plain, we 
appreciated our blessings the more. 

133 



134 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

As the boys began cutting the grass to clear a 
place for our tent, one of them suddenly gave a cry 
of alarm. He had almost stepped on a spotted puff 
adder, a painting of which Sir Harry Johnson has 
rightly named, ^^ Death." The boys soon killed it, 
but after that they worked a little more carefully in 
the tall grass. 

The people were very friendly from the first. 
They said that we were the first white missionaries 
who had ever come to their kraal. As it was Satur- 
day night, Mr. Springer got the young guide to tell 
them that we wanted food and would not buy on the 
morrow. So in only about an hour's time after our 
arrival, there came a stream of sellers and soon we 
had more food than we could use and had to turn 
some of them away. The young man remained with 
us till late that evening and acted as spokesman to 
the people. Through him, Mr. Springer announced 
that he would hold a public service at the kraal the 
next morning. 

The chief was away when we arrived on Saturday 
but Mr. Springer met him the next morning, ^e 
was a fine appearing young man of about forty. He 
called his people to the service and fully two hundred, 
mostly men and boys, seated themselves in a large, 
open space to hear for the first time the Gospel mes- 
sage. They listened with marked interest and respect. 

After the service, Gandanzara expressed his pleas- 
ure that we had paid him a visit. He said that no 
other missionary had ever come to his kraal before 
and asked if we could not send him a native teacher 
to come and live there among his people all the time. 

Before starting out on this evangelistic trip, the 



Sunday at Gandanzara's 135 

question of presents to the native chiefs had been 
discussed. We had no money to put into blankets, 
loin cloths, etc., and we decided that we would try 
another plan. We had some new Gospels of John, a 
translation by Mr. White, a Wesleyan of the Salisbury 
District. These were in large print and gayly bound 
in scarlet. So we decided to present each of the 
chiefs with one of these (if they would take it) telling 
them what it was, who we were, to see if we might 
not thereby arouse curiosity if not interest. 

Our boys laughed at the idea and insisted that the 
chiefs would only use the books to light their pipes 
with if they accepted them at all. So it was purely 
an experiment and this was the first opportunity to 
put it in operation. 

But for some reason, Gandanzara refused to take 
the unusual gift. He might have thought it would 
bewitch him or he more likely wanted something 
more useful. At any rate he refused to accept it and 
the boys looked as much as to say, '^ We told you 
so." However, that afternoon he sent up one of his 
head men and said he should be very glad to accept 
the Book if we would send it down to him. 

While Mr. Springer and all the eight boys were 
down at the kraal, a crowd of women came up and 
routed me out of the tent before I was dressed. They 
had peanuts, potatoes, meal, pumpkins and all sorts 
of things for sale. I told them I could not buy from 
them as it was Sunday but I would siDg for them and 
teach them to sing. Perhaps they couldn^ t be blamed 
if their savage breasts were not soothed with my 
singing : I don^t pose as a soloist but I did the best I 
could. No they wouldn't sing nor would they listen 



136 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

to me. They were disappointed because I would not 
buy from them and so after about an hour's time 
during which they sat chatting (whether I was talking 
or not) about me and the camp and sundry items of 
kraal gossip while the babies alternately howled and 
drew on the maternal supplies, they took themselves 
off. 

I hastened then to finish my toilet rather crestfallen 
at my failure. But when the women got back to the 
kraal and heard all the men talking about this new 
teaching they had heard that morning and even the 
chief discussing the sermon seriously, I fancy their 
curiosity led them to wish they themselves had kept 
quiet and heard what the Mufundisi had to say. 

Mr. Springer returned at nine o' clock with a troop 
of boys and young men at his heels. We hardly had 
opportunity to eat our breakfast when they began to 
ask for more singing. By ten the women were all 
back again begging the Missis to sing for them. 
They atoned for their earlier conduct by trying to 
learn a hymn themselves. We always calculate that 
more good can be done by teaching the natives to 
sing one verse themselves than by singing the hymn- 
book through from cover to cover for them. One of 
the women said to me apologetically, ^' Teach our 
daughters here the hymn ; they are young and can 
learn it; we are too old." There was quite an ele- 
ment of truth in what she said. 

This reminds me of Bishop William Taylor's famous 
story he used to tell to illustrate the need of boarding- 
schools for the training of the native leaders of both 
sexes. 

He said that at one time the fishes came to the con- 



Sunday at Gandanzara's 137 

elusion that it was their duty to teach the lobsters how 
to swim straight ahead instead of backwards. So 
they had a meeting and subsequently invited all the 
lobsters to come to swimming school. 

After a week they had another meeting and were 
unanimous in their opinion that they must change 
their methods. The old lobsters were not good pupils. 
They were set in their ways and stiff in their joints 
and didn't want to learn the right way of swimming 
anyhow. 

So they said, ^^We won't bother much with these 
old lobsters. If they want to come in, all right, but 
we will devote most of our time to the little lobsters." 

So they started a primary school and the little 
lobsters turned out in full force, and as they were 
limber, nimble and quick to learn, by the close of the 
first day their teachers dismissed them proudly as they 
started off for home swimming straight ahead. 

But alas ! When they came back the next morning 
from their caves and nooks, every last little lobster 
was swimming backwards. And so it was every day 
for another week until at the end of it the fishes had 
another conference, when there was another unani- 
mous motion carried that if ever they were to train up 
these young lobsters as they ought to be trained, they 
must establish a boarding-school where the little lob- 
sters couldn't go home every night. 

We have learned in Africa, as well as elsewhere, 
that there is no limit to God's saving power. He can 
save the oldest or the vilest sinner and many of them 
have been saved. Moreover, we find that the day- 
schools do an immense amount of good. Not only are 
there thousands of children saved by means of the day- 



138 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

schools, but they in turn often lead their parents to 
Christ. 

But it is true that in order to train up young men 
and women to be soul winners and leaders among their 
own people, we must have the boarding-schools where 
they will not be continually in the atmosphere and 
influence of heathenish practices and superstitions 
during the time of their training. 

By eleven o'clock there were nearly a hundred 
natives seated around all anxious to sing. I sung 
myself hoarse and talked myself out and then called 
Mr. Springer. He held forth for another hour and 
then called Charley. Philip then led the singing 
and the other boys took turns in preaching until 
after four o'clock when the most of the crowd de- 
parted, only a few of the young men staying until 
late in the evening again. 

A few weeks later three little boys from that kraal 
came to the mission school, but only one stayed. 
The next term a few of his little kraal friends joined 
him. Each vacation the boys were sent back to sow 
the seed they had gotten at the mission : each term 
there were new reinforcements. 

Two years later Daniel took his bride up there to 
live. They have had a great revival and a strong 
native church will be the result. The women are 
learning to make decent dresses for themselves after 
the pattern of the clothes worn by the preacher's 
wife. A work of grace begun in the heart never fails 
to manifest itself in the outward appearance. 



WATAPA'S WEDDING 

WATAPA'S only distinction was that he 
was the homeliest, best-natured boy in the 
school and that he was the first one to 
have a wedding, and a church wedding at that. 

He took his wedding in a most matter-of-fact way, 
as if it were an every-day occurrence. The cere- 
mony was to be at five o'clock, but he did not let 
that interfere with his attending the afternoon session 
of school. 

We gathered promptly at the hour named in the 
little chapel. Every boy was there, all the married 
women and a few girl visitors. Among the very first 
to arrive was Watapa and his bride Mulefu, who 
took their places on the front seat with great solem- 
nity. The audience, likewise, appeared to have come 
to attend a funeral. There was not the shadow of a 
smile, not the faintest trace of mirth on a single 
countenance. 

Watapa had been helping me translate the marriage 
ceremony for a week, so if the translation was far 
from perfect as to the letter, he thoroughly under- 
stood the spirit of it. 

He had purchased a new white piqu6 dress for the 
bride consisting of a skirt and jacket which was 
closely buttoned over a dirty gauze undervest cov- 
ered at the neck by an old white silk handkerchief. 
Watapa was arrayed in a new white duck suit and 

139 



140 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

wore a large biincli of pink and white cosmos in his 
coat lapel. 

The contracting parties having been thoroughly- 
drilled previously, the ceremony passed off nicely 
without any breaks. After the ceremony, it was 
necessary for papers to be filled out to send in to the 
government. 

While this was being done, the boys filed out 
quietly and stood in two solemn rows on either side 
of the church door. As Watapa and his wife came 
out of the church, the solemn lines broke and showers 
of rice fell on the newly wedded pair amidst yells 
which fairly rent the air. 

Watapa tried to maintain his decorum for a few 
seconds only to give way at last, take to his heels 
and bolt ignominiously for the boys' dormitory leav- 
ing his bride to wend her way alone. This, however, 
did not seem to strike her as being any reflection on 
him or breach of courtesy to herself. 

She and her two girl friends went back to my 
kitchen where she had put herself in bridal array, 
stayed there perhaps half an hour and then went over 
to where her husband had fled for refuge. 

I had given them some tins of biscuits, tea, milk 
and sugar and told them to have a jolly time. Soon 
I went over to see how they were getting on. A 
table was covered with a white cloth in the small 
room Watapa had shared with a half dozen other 
boys, and Daniel was making tea. But they stoutly 
refused to open either the milk or the biscuits. They 
informed me that they wanted them for the feast. 

So they drank their tea and sang hymns until after 
nine o'clock when Mulefu and her two friends re- 



Watapa's Wedding 141 

turned and said they wanted to sleep in my kitclien, 
though there was a hut all fitted up for the bridal 
couple. No, they wanted to stay with me, so the 
three girls slept in my kitchen and Watapa remained 
at the dormitory as usual. 

Imagine my dismay, however, when I found the 
girls performing their ablutions in my dish pan the 
next morning ! 

That was in the middle of the week. For three 
days there was a little brown goat tied out in front of 
the boys' dormitory by day and inside by night, 
bleating out to the passers-by that he was to be the 
main feature of the wedding feast. 

On Saturday, the tables were spread in the school- 
room, covered with unbleached muslin and gayly 
decorated with flowers. All the biscuits were opened 
and the wash-boiler was impressed into service for tea. 
Between the two front windows a small table was 
again laid with linen and china furnished by Philip 
from my dining-room, for the Wafundisi (teachers) 
for whom a special pot of tea and plate of biscuits 
were served. Another table was set at one side for 
the girls and women. The bride sat at this and the 
bridegroom got as far away as he could. Indeed, 
after every one else had arrived they had to send out 
and hunt him up and bring him in. 

Whether he was overcome with a sudden fit of 
bashfulness, whether he was afraid of the boys' merry 
rallying or whether it were possible that he had 
actually forgotten the event, is hard to say. It could 
hardly have been the latter, as every other native on 
the place had remembered and was promptly on 
hand. 



142 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

But like some other bridegrooms, he had to be 
hunted up and escorted to the feast. However, when 
he got there, nothing could induce him to sit at all 
near his bride. Neither would he take a seat at the 
head of the table. He insisted on sitting among the 
other boys at the side of one of the long tables in as 
inconspicuous a place as possible. 

For the first half hour, the wedding party were all 
busy over plates of piled up rice, small chunks of 
goat and swimming gravy. But when it came to the 
biscuits and tea, they prolonged their pleasure by 
singing hymns. It is one of the marks of the transi- 
tion period from the old to the new that the boys and 
girls sing hymns when they do not know what else 
to do. 

Under the old regime, festal occasions consist chiefly 
of dancing and drinking intoxicants. The dancing is 
to the accompaniment of the big drum and heathen 
songs. 

So when we eliminate the dancing and beer, the 
first things to take their place are the Christian hymns. 
This accounts for many an otherwise ludicrous incon- 
gruity. To see Daniel marching his little band out 
to the field, their hoes on their shoulders in military 
style, lustily singing ^'Onward Christian Soldiers," 
might provoke a smile at first. But what else could 
they sing ? And when that troop of girls came fiying 
out to welcome us home after our two months^ absence 
on an evangelistic tour north to the Zambesi Eiver, 
they at once broke into a familiar hymn which had 
nothing to do with the occasion whatever. The boys 
heard it from afar and joined, finished that hymn 
and were well launched into the " Christian Soldiers, '^ 



Watapa's Wedding 143 

by the time they too gathered around us to the be- 
wilderment of poor Jacky who thus feeling himself 
called upon to make some reply opened his mouth 
and brayed so lustily that the singing was completely 
broken up in laughter. 

So at the wedding, there was nothing else to do but 
to sing. Toasts were beyond them as yet so they sung 
the hymn-book through from cover to cover inter- 
spersing their songs with fresh cups of tea and a fresh 
biscuit. It was a clean, merry, happy celebration. 

Unfortunately, Watapa had to interrupt his course 
and leave school and the mission for a time to earn 
money with which to pay for his wife or, in other 
words, to purchase peace from his wife's relatives 
who were vexing his soul daily for the usual ^4o- 
bolo " which the natives insist is only a proper gift 
which the son-in-law tenders as a mark of respect to 
his wife's father. 

Two years later I received a letter. Watapa had 
written it at Mulefu's dictation. It is packed away 
in my goods in Africa. I wish I could quote it ver- 
batim, but I can't. It was such a pathetic little note. 
She wanted the Missis to know that the little baby 
had died and she wanted the Missis to pray for her ? 
And would the Missis send her a book to comfort her. 
She would try to learn to read a primer (she had been 
hopelessly thick-headed) now the baby was dead. I 
sent her the Gospel of John and a primer containing 
the Twenty -third Psalm. 

Just as our carriage was crossing the mountain range 
for the last time on our way to Umtali with our faces 
turned homeward, we passed a transport wagon at 
Christmas Pass. Some one called, and as we stopped 



144 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

the mule a woman came running towards us. It was 
Mulefu with Watapa close behind her. She wanted 
to tell me how glad she was for the Book. We were 
deeply touched by their sincere regrets at our depar- 
ture and the gratitude they expressed for our having 
come. Missionary work has, I think, the richest 
compensation in the world. 




h* 
f. 


ni 


**-■ 
^i^^ 





■*X^^^^^^^St^ 



XXVI 

SWEET SIXTEEN 

MY Black Lassie arrives at the mission 
clothed in a single garment of uncertain 
age, guiltless of an acquaintance with soap 
and water. She announces that she *'has arrived 
and wants to learn. '^ In nine out of ten cases she 
has run away from her kraal. This means that she 
will be followed by irate parents and other relatives 
who will keep her and the powers that be in the 
mission interested for a week or so. In the end they 
usually depart and time works reconciliation. 

If she has any friends in the school, they will im- 
mediately lend her their clothes and the next day she 
comes out rigged up in the most absurd style but 
feeling very proud of herself and of her new book 
and slate and eager for instruction. 

Everything is so new, — so delightfully new and 
fascinating ! She has stepped from the grimy, smoky, 
filthy darkness of the kraal life into a fairy-land where 
the people live in amazing houses and the men eat with 
their wives. It all seems so odd ! Her whole being 
thrills with girlish happiness and she is a transformed 
girl. Her laugh rings out merrily in chorus with the 
others, — and the laugh of Sweet Sixteen in any land 
defies imitation. 

She joins heartily in the singing, not at all ham- 
pered by the fact that she knows neither the tune nor 

145 



146 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

the words. She will learn them both in half the time 
it took her brother, who is in the boys^ school, to 
do so. 

When she hears the other girls pray, she wants to 
pray too ; for she has the intuitive feeling which she 
could not define that it is prayer which makes the 
school what it is and the girls what they are. So it 
will be but a few weeks before she will be praying in 
public herself. Happily, to her, prayer is prayer 
and she has not come to the point of making excuses 
for not seizing all opportunities for it as they come. 

In short, she is ready to learn to do anything the 
other girls do. She is even willing to do her share 
of the hoeing and digging : though having had little 
else to do before in her life, she likes that least of all. 

But oh ! how much there is for her to learn ! To 
be prompt, and quick and clean and truthful ! To 
learn the value of time ! Ah ! Her teacher needs 
infinite patience on that score ! It will take years 
for her to learn some of these lessons. She is not 
built that way, nor were her mothers before her for 
countless generations. 

She learns to read and write with remarkable ra- 
pidity. A few months' lessons with the needle will 
enable her to excel many an American girl of her 
age. For Sweet Sixteen' s sewing lessons are prac- 
tical — dressmaking, darning, mending and fine 
needle-work. 

Sweet Sixteen also likes the boys after the most ap- 
proved fashion. She wants to marry one of these 
handsome young schoolfellows. And who can blame 
her ? They are far to be preferred to the dirty old 
heathen in the kraal, to whom she has likely already 



Sweet Sixteen 147 

been sold by her parents. Most likely she fled to the 
mission as to a city of refuge to escape being forced 
into such a marriage. But she is very discreet in her 
conduct before these young men. When the young 
men are around she is the soul of demureness and 
often appears quite unaware that there is such a 
thing as a boy in the whole universe, let alone in her 
vicinity. 

Nevertheless, when she gets on her best Sunday- 
go-to-meeting clothes, I fear her mind is not always 
on the sermon, — as ours used to be, you know. A 
sly little Puss is Sweet Sixteen whether she be black 
or white. 

So the brief term of her school-days flits by as a 
dream. There are at least a half-dozen suitors for 
her hand. No dirty, heathen wife for our Chris- 
tian boys, thanks ! So in two or three years at the 
most, she has a Christian wedding and goes out with 
her husband to win other girls and women to the 
Master whom she has come to know and serve. 

Sweet Sixteen at school ! May her numbers in- 
crease ! 



XXYII 
TO BE OR NOT TO BE 

HAMATOTE tightened his belt to lessen the 
consciousness of his lack of a morning meal 
or any other meal for forty-eight hours. 
At least the tightened belt would stop that awful 
gnawing. He seized his walking stick, grasped his 
stout knobkerrie and spear and walked out of the 
tumble- down little kraal with a look of determina- 
tion on his face. 

The sun was just rising when he started on his 
journey : the eastern sky was all alight with the 
glorious afterglow of the setting sun when he reached 
his destination, the chiefs kraal where he knew there 
was food. 

His look of determination had given way to an air 
of indifference which ill fitted his lean frame and the 
natural haggardness which comes with starvation. 
The native African is an adept at playing a part but 
there was hunger in the land and all men knew it only 
too well to be deceived. 

Hamatote joined the usual group of men at the dalif 
or general loafing place, a place also where court is 
held and where many a life has hung in the balance 
either to be acquitted or convicted of witchcraft. He 
now came forward, squatted on his heels and went 
through lengthy greetings, all the while softly clap- 
ping his hands. The other men knew at once his er- 
rand and so, one by one, they got up and went away 

148 



To Be or Not to Be 149 

until he was left with the Shylock with whom he had 
to deal. 

The fact that the chief was dirty and clad only in 
a couple of filthy old goatskins did not impress 
Hamatote. He had been used to such all his life. 
But his courage almost failed as he looked into the 
hard, merciless, grasping, hideous face before him. 
But his stomach was empty and hunger is bold. 

Softly clapping his hands in obeisance, he asked, 
*• Might the Ishi have any more grain? " The Ishi 
shrugged his shoulders. ^ ' Where should he see grain 
when there was no rain and only hunger covered the 
land?" 

Hamatote laughed as if appreciating the Ishi's 
humour. The old man felt that he had really made a 
witticism and laughed himself. It put him in quite 
a pleasant frame of mind, — for him. 

Seeing the advantage of the chief s self- satisfaction, 
Hamatote began, ^' I will tell the Ishi all that is in my 
heart. The Ishi knows I have only two wives, my 
son and one daughter left. The cattle are gone, the 
sheep are gone, the goats are gone, the fowls are gone 
and even the girl has been sold for food. We have 
nothing more to sell and death waits at our door. 
We are already dead. Give me grain and it may be 
that the gods will give me another daughter and then 
shall that daughter be yours. But if the child be an- 
other son, then shall he give you his daughter when 
he is grown. We are as dead men before the Ishi : 
will he not hear his slaveys prayer? " 

The old wretch chuckled. He had made many 
such bargains. Fully a score of girls of all sizes had 
already been bought up by him : he would risk one 



150 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

other even though it were unborn. His sensual old 
soul already gloated over another fair, fresh, young 
victim and the deal was closed. 

They called the child Amundibayi (he-will-not- 
slay-me). Hamatote did not long survive the famine. 
When pneumonia attacked his gaunt frame, there was 
no resistive power left and he died leaving his eldest 
son to see that the chiefs debt was paid. 

Sixteen years passed swiftly away and then the old 
man sent word that he wanted to claim his bride. He 
was sixteen years uglier and more wicked and sensual, 
— that was all the change in him. 

Poor Amundibayi ! She loathed the very sight of 
him and vowed she never would marry him : she'd 
commit suicide first as many another girl had done. 
But the older brother was merciless. If she did not 
marry the chief, he must go to work and pay the debt 
himself. Such a thing was not to be considered. Of 
course she must marry the chief. So he alternately 
argued and stormed while the mother scolded and 
pleaded and threatened. 

Just then a bright thought struck the girl : Why 
not go to the mission? Her half-sister was there. 
One of the young men had redeemed her from the 
bondage into which she was sold and had married her. 
Why couldn't she go there too? The more she 
thought of it, the more favourable the plan seemed to 
her and she grew so cheerful that the mother and 
brother thought she was yielding. 

But one day they missed her and then they knew 
the cause of her change of countenance and hastened 
after her with all possible speed but were too late to 
overtake her on the road. 



To Be or Not to Be 151 

When they came to the mission, they made a 
proper row. The mother threw herself at my feet 
and told me how she was dying of starvation be- 
cause she had no daughter to cook her food for her. 
The brother stormed and threatened, all to no avail. 

Then they went over to the native commissioner 
where the young man said that his wife had run 
away from him and that the mission authorities re- 
fused to let her come back to him. So he returned 
and triumphantly handed me a note which ran, 
" This man says that his wife is at the mission and 
this is to authorize his taking her away with him,'^ 
or something to that effect. 

"Where is your wife ? '^ I asked the young man. 
He looked startled. * ^ This letter says that you want 
your wife : where is she ? I do not know any woman 
who is your wife here.'' He was completely taken 
aback. He was not versed in the powers of pen and 
ink and never dreamed that his lie would be so 
quickly unearthed. 

Amundibayi was there with us but still refused to 
go with her brother. The mother and brother went 
away and came back a week later. They wanted 
Amundibayi to go with them to the native commis- 
sioner. Certainly : I had not the least objection. 
But I called her brother-in-law and told him to go 
along too to see that no foul play took place. When 
the commissioner heard the case, he only said, 
" That's the law : she cannot be compelled to marry 
that old man and I cannot drive her away from the 
mission. She has the right to make her own choice. '' 

And so at last, after two or three weeks of trouble, 
they left her in peace. 



152 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

One day Charley Potter liad a long talk with Mr. 
Springer. Subsequently he had an interview with 
Amundibayi. He sat down on a soap box and awk- 
wardly fingered his hat. She sat on an another soap 
box on the other side of the kitchen table and folded 
and unfolded a tea towel. 

^' What are you going to do when you get through 
school ? ' ' asked Charley. 

^'I don't know," she answered shyly, her eyes 
glued on the tea towel. 

^* Will you go back to your kraal ? '^ he continued. 

*' Kwete,^^ was the emphatic negative. 

^* What will you do? If you will not marry the 
man your folks want you to marry, they will not find 
you another husband." 

Her head bent over the tea towel and her voice was 
barely audible as she replied, ''I suppose I shall 
have to get one myself." 

''Do you think I would do?" he asked a bit 
nervously. 

Evidently she did, for the engagement was an- 
nounced forthwith. The course of their true love 
had a rather crooked course and I do not know if it 
is straightened out yet or not. But she will surely 
marry some Christian boy in our school. 

So the question of her marriage as to whether she 
shall be sold or free is settled. Not so with thousands 
of her kraal sisters. 

''To be or not to be" free, that is the question 
which we must decide for the most of them. They 
are ready for freedom if we will only place it 
within their reach. 



XXYIII 

PERPETUAL BLISTERS 

THERE are four principal means of trekking 
in Africa — by foot, by ox wagon, by don- 
key or mule back and by hammock which 
last named conveyance is also known as a machilla 
or tipoa, two Portuguese words which have come into 
current use. 

In Southern Ehodesia, the hammock or machilla is 
seldom seen. But in Northwestern Ehodesia where 
the tsetse fly is death to the domestic fowl and brute, 
the machilla is in great demand especially for ladies 
of whom there are hardly more than a dozen north 
of the Kafue Eiver. 

We studied the pros and cons of travel long and 
well. At first I decided to take Jackie with me, 
shipping him by freight to Broken Hill, but learning 
of the tsetse fly, I saw that I should only lose my 
donkey in so doing. He might have gone through 
the whole trip and he might have died in a week, so 
there was no use to risk it. 

I have always been a good pedestrian and had al- 
ready walked some hundreds of miles on the trail 
but I could not contemplate a trip of at least 1,500 
and possibly 2,000 miles with forced marches, on 
foot. So at last we decided on a compromise : we 
got a machilla and a half of a team (eight men) so 
that I could ride at least half the way if I needed to. 

153 



154 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

And but for Terrible Tim, I should not have had 
that. Mr. Springer had engaged a machilla at the 
Africa Lakes Store but when he went to get it, they 
told him they had just received a telegram of a large 
hunting party on the way up from the Cape and so 
they couldn't let him have it. 

Tim had been a sailor for years and when he 
learned of our dilemma, came to the front and offered 
to make the machilla for me. So we got the stoutest 
canvas to be had and in two days the hammock part 
was done and hung on a palm leaf stem sixteen feet 
long. Over this was another piece of green, water- 
proof canvas which closely covered the hammock to 
protect the occupant from the bushes, thorns, grass 
and other jungle as well as a shade from the burning 
sun. 

Possibly a hammock sounds like a comfortable 
thing in which to ride. In some sections of Africa 
where they have cleared roads, it isn't so bad. But 
on native paths, it gets to be almost unendurable. 
Two men start off with it on the dog-trot for they 
cannot walk with so heavy a load. It seems almost 
impossible for them to turn every corner of the 
tortuous path in the great forest carefully. So the 
unfortunate victim in the machilla is jolted along at 
a back-breaking pace as the carriers merrily sing 

Gongo, gongo, 

Wanu wa mayi walila ho, 

Gongq, gongo, 

while the hammock bangs against the trees, thumps 
on stumps and ant-hills. All the while the occupant 
is sweltering under the blaze of the sun on the canvas 



Perpetual Blisters 155 

or shivering from the cold wind if the sun doesn't 
shine. There's no happy medium : it is either un- 
comfortably hot or cold. 

It was my plan, therefore, to start out in the early 
morning on foot and walk as many miles as possible 
before I got into the machilla, seldom under seven 
miles and more often nine or ten. Four miles of be- 
ing carried was about the most I could endure at one 
time. Then I would get out and walk again to rest 
my back. 

I took three pairs of boots with me and it was a 
lucky thing I did. I took them so that if one pair 
wore out, I would have another. But I soon found 
that I needed all three for rotative wear. Each pair 
made a distinct lot of blisters on my feet. So when I 
had worn one pair until I was quite crippled, I 
changed and put on another pair. These gave the 
first set of blisters time to recuperate while the second 
set were forming. Then when I could no longer 
walk in either of those pairs, the third lot came into 
service. 

I had hoped that the more I walked, the easier it 
would be and that my feet would get hardened. I^ot 
so : I kept up the regular round of blisters from start 
to finish and at the last, not only was the surface of 
my feet sore, but every joint in my feet and body. 

The last ten days were particularly hard ones. 
We were almost out of food and even the sour mush 
was hard to obtain. Moreover the water was inde- 
scribably bad. We frequently had to use a most 
nauseating, opaque, liquid mud from stagnant pools 
in which, frequently, the cattle had waded. It was 
undoubtedly the lack of good water which affected 



1^6 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

us the most. In addition to this we had to make at 
least twenty-five miles a day. My machilla men 
were so weakened by hunger, so footsore and worn 
that they could only carry me ten miles a day at 
most. We were in one of the most desolate countries 
ever cursed by the rum and slave trade. Slaves in 
their chains and heavy yokes were seen in the vil- 
lages through which we passed, ready to be sent to 
the market or shipped off quietly. The trader and 
rum were everywhere in evidence. Graveyards were 
the most prominent feature of the landscape while 
here and there a trader's whitewashed house or a 
flourishing ram mill stood out like grim tombstones 
in this depopulated region. It seemed, indeed, a 
country full of dead men's bones. 

What wonder that the splendidly built Bachokwe 
tribe stoutly refuse the white man residence in their 
country. According to their version, the European 
represents rum, slavery, death. And so they will in 
Portuguese territory until the missionary comes in to 
dwell among them and show to them the better way. 



xxrx 

BICYCLING IN CENTRAL AFRICA 

GIFFOED had got his notice that the mine 
was closing down and in one month's time 
his valuable services would no longer be 
required. At first he thought of going south of the 
Zambesi, but as the hard times were at their worst 
there, he decided he'd ^^ chance if and go north 
with us. Perhaps there would be an opening for him 
in the Tanganyika Concessions. 

It was then the discussion arose over his bicycle. 
One said, take it ; another said, leave it ; no two 
agreed as to the practicability of taking a wheel onto 
a native trail. He tried to sell it, but since the mine 
was closing and all the white men were leaving, there 
was no one to buy. At the eleventh hour, in a fit of 
desperation, he concluded to take it along. 

Then the trouble began. A new cone was needed 
to make it usable so he wrote at once to Bulawayo 
for it. After the letter had been gone a couple of 
days, he sent a telegram to make sure. But on the 
morning of our departure, said cone had not appeared 
and the fate of the wheel hung in the balance. 

At the fifty-ninth second. Terrible Tim came to the 
rescue and offered a whole front wheel. So while the 
caravan was being formed in line and loaded, Gifford, 
Terrible Tim and a newly arrived missionary who 

157 



158 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

had once kept a bicycle shop, whisked around the 
corner to repair the lame machine. The caravan 
started off and an hour later, Gifford caught up to us 
with the coneless wheel hanging over the handle bars. 

Henry Drummond once wrote, ^'For straightness 
in general and crookedness in particular, commend 
me to an African trail." Let it be added that the 
trail is usually from nine to twelve inches wide, often 
worn down six or more inches below the rest of the 
country, bordered with small ant-hills, circumscrib- 
ing big ones, thickly bestrewn with stones, stumps, 
fallen branches, obtruding roots and other obstacles. 

However, the country from Broken Hill was, for 
the most part, flat and heavily wooded, which was an 
advantage over tall grass. Gifford and Mr. Springer 
both suffered from badly blistered feet at the outset 
so they took turns riding the wheel and for a few 
days were rather glad they had it along. Each 
would ride until his eyes ached and his nerves were 
all awry and then he would walk on leaving the wheel 
standing against a tree by the side of the path for 
the other fellow. 

It was on the afternoon of the third day out, that 
Gifford was delighted to see his wheel waiting for 
him. The sun was very hot and his feet very sore. 
He mounted and rode along, mentally composing an 
argument in favour of his machine, but he had hardly 
ridden five minutes when he came to an open, swampy 
vlej (pronounced fiay) where the grass grew to six or 
eight feet in height on either side of the path and 
interlocked in the centre of it. 

He dismounted and tried to push through the 
tangle. The sun shone down blisteringly and the 



Bicycling in Central Africa 159 

thick jungle permitted not so mucli as a breath of 
air. The wheel balked, turned, twisted and got 
snarled up in the grass. The insult to the injury- 
came when swarms of tsetse flies were stirred up by 
the commotion and settled themselves on Gifford's 
bare neck and arms, puncturing him as with red hot 
needles, raising great itching welts which were almost 
maddening. 

However, while the enthusiasm over the bicycle 
waned daily, in consideration of the blistered feet it 
was agreed that on the whole the wheel was a rather 
good thing. At any rate it made good time. There- 
fore on Saturday it was settled that Gifford should 
ride ahead, cover the twenty miles in two or three 
hours at the most and let the brethren of a certain 
mission know that we were on the way. 

He started off in high feather to make the trip in 
the ».ool of the morning. But he had hardly got out 
of our sight when he struck soft sand through which 
he had to walk and push the wheel for about two 
miles. Eeentering the forest where the path was 
solid, he mounted and hurried forward. But his rest 
was short-lived for he soon came to a clearing where 
there were more stumps than trees. Here he jumped 
on and off the wheel until familiarity bred contempt, 
for the dangers and leg- weariness made him reckless. 
The next thing he knew, he picked himself up, looked 
to see if there were any broken bones, nursed his 
bleeding knee which protruded through the torn 
pantaloons and lastly examined the buckled wheel to 
see if it had come to a violent end. 

He found it bent beyond repair at that time, so 
setting [it in the path he ran it on its hind wheel, 



i6o Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

limping painfully behind it for at least fifteen miles, 
only reaching the mission a half hour ahead of the 
caravan. 

It took two men all of Monday to get the thing 
into working order again and even then the front 
wheel rubbed the fork badly. Moreover, the machine 
was very wabbly and had to be pushed so much 
that a boy was taken from my machilla team to at- 
tend solely to it. 

The path got worse and the fork badly worn, so 
when we reached the mining camp of Kanshanshi it 
took several other hours and two men working on it 
with the result that the old wheel was removed en- 
tirely and replaced by another hind wheel so that the 
bicycle reminded one of the small boy in the home- 
made trousers, — you couldn't tell which way he was 
going. 

Between the two mines of Kanshanshi and Kam- 
bove there is a bicycle path one hundred and ten 
miles long. It was on this path one day that Gifford 
came abruptly around a large ant-hill and nearly ran 
onto a leopard which was about to lie down in the 
path. He had just time to dismount when the huge 
beast bounded off into the forest without even look- 
ing up to see what the click it heard was : and Gif- 
ford sat down to meditate and wait for the rest of the 
caravan. 

By the time we reached Kambove, the saddle was 
worn out and several other small items needed atten- 
tion and once more and for the last time, the wheel 
was pronounced fit for the trail and did good service 
part of the way to Euwi. The trouble now was that 
the trail was not fit for the wheel. Eough, rocky, 



Bicycling in Central Africa 16 1 

steep hills, large rivers and big swamps left little 
room for bicycling. 

The end came just beyond Euwi, when Mr. Springer 
took a double-header over a root on a vlej where there 
wasn't a tree in sight, nearly broke his own neck and 
completely finished the bicycle. 

But in that fly-infested country the bicycle is al- 
ready playing an important part among the mining 
men. It will also play an important part in the 
evangelization of that wild country. The missionary 
must use it wherever he can to save time and to 
spread himself out over as great a district as possible 
in an immense area where to-day the harvest is great 
and the reapers are none. 



XXX 

THE BUFFALO AT THE 5012th ANT-HILL 

NOETHWESTEEN EHODESIA might be 
called the land of ant-hills. Not that they 
do not exist elsewhere but that here they 
particularly predominate. For at least 500 miles of 
our joarney, we enjoyed a continual panorama of ant- 
hills and always sought to pitch our tent close to one 
at night. In certain sections, the ant-hills were 
heavily timbered with big trees, the ants which built 
up the symmetrical little hill having gone elsewhere. 
Then we struck a region where all the big, round ant- 
hills were overgrown with delicate green, graceful, 
lacy bamboo. After that, their character changed 
again. This time they were covered with a short, 
coarse grass which resembled nothing else so much as 
a thatched hut roof. Then for two or three days, we 
found most peculiar and fantastically shaped products 
of the termite. Some were tall like the chimneys which 
stand after fire has destroyed the rest of the house. 

Together with these big ant-hills, there were always 
a multitude of little ones which had been formed 
about some bit of dead wood. Often on treeless 
plains, we found thousands of lesser ant-hills, which 
looked like giant toadstools, two or three feet in 
height. 

The 5012th ant-hill (the number is taken at ran- 
dom ; I never was good at figures) was one of the big, 
round kind, fifteen or twenty feet high and covered 

162 



The Buffalo at the 5012th Ant-Hill 163 

with bamboo. We were going along in the early 
morning ahead of the caravan looking for meat. 

Suddenly Mr. Springer halted until I came up to 
him when he pointed down to the other side of the 
vlej where a large bull buffalo stood in the short 
grass. Now the African buffalo has the worst repu- 
tation for fierceness of all the animals of the veld. 
They are considered without exception the most dan- 
gerous beast in all Africa. And the lone rover bull 
which has been turned out of the herd because of its 
bad disposition is the worst of the lot. 

" Isn't it a pity 1 " whispered my husband. 

^^What'sapityr' I asked. 

" That I can't have a whack at him,'^ he replied. 

" Why can't you ? " came back in the same tragic 
whisper. 

^* Because I couldn't endanger you," he retorted iu 
surprise that I should ask. By this time my remote 
Indian blood was fired and though naturally one of 
the most cowardly of mortals, always deathly afraid 
of a gun or even a firecracker, the sight of that splen- 
did beast and the knowledge that our men needed 
food thrilled me with an excitement I had never 
known before. 

" You must shoot," I whispered excitedly. "You 
go over to that ant-hill where you will be hidden in 
the bamboo. I'll go over here and hide behind this 
old skerm. The buffalo will charge the ant-hill, if he 
charges at all and you can always climb a tree. So 
I'll be safe enough." I gave him an impatient push 
as he further hesitated, doubting the wisdom of my 
sage counsel. ''Go on: hurry," I repeated and 
skulked off for the skerm. 



164 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

He made his way cautiously towards the ant-hill 
and I watched from my hiding-place but in my ex- 
citement not doing much better in concealing myself 
than the fable of the ostrich and the sand, quite for- 
getting until afterwards that I had on a bright blue 
blouse. Had Mr. Springer lost his head as completely 
as I lost mine, I should probably not have been here 
now to write this story. 

Bang ! And the immense beast instead of charg- 
ing started to go back on his own tracks. It is more 
than likely he was blind and went by instinct and 
smell. Another shot would probably have finished 
him, but alas ! he was making in the direction of the 
skerm and another shot might have brought him upon 
me, so on he galloped undisturbed. 

We remained in hiding some minutes, for the buffalo 
is treacherous. Then the native who was with us and 
who had climbed a tree where he could watch pro- 
ceedings in safety, gave the signal and we came out. 
We found that the animal had been badly wounded, 
so Mr. Springer followed him for four miles but in 
vain. 

I think I was the more disappointed over the loss. 
It was the first time I had ever felt the spirit of the 
chase, that primitive nature which lies so near the 
surface in all of us, which centuries of culture and 
learning cannot drown. In fact, I could not be recon- 
ciled until one day Mr. Springer bagged a couple of 
fine wart hogs which were much better eating, and 
the tushes of which were much easier to take along 
with us than the enormous horns of the buffalo would 
have been, — the buffalo at the 5012th ant-hill. 



XXXI 

THE LAND OF SOUR MUSH 

IT was not the land of corn and wine neither was 
it the land of milk and honey. Honey there 
was no doubt but the only evidence of it was in 
the abundance of native beer made from it. The man 
who drinks honey beer will walk miles hunting for 
trouble till he finds it. The tribe that imbibes, 
makes it exceedingly dangerous for the passing 
traveller. 

When we heard the dull booming of the distant 
drums, we knew we were nearing a village where a 
native dance was in progress and most of the people 
would be drunk. One night we had a camp close to 
such a kraal. When Mr. Springer went to buy food, 
he found the people very surly. They were all hide- 
ously painted up for one of their devil dances. 

When we went to bed the dance was in full swing 
as the wild yells of the people evidenced. Every 
now and then through the night the wind would veer 
and bring the frenzied yells nearer and we would 
think for an instant that possibly the natives were 
making an attack. Surely had not that unseen Guard 
been about us, I fear that we should all have been 
deported before morning to that land from whence 
none may return. Conscious of the fact that the 
Guard was actually there, we slept the sleep of the 
weary only rousing when the terrible din became too 
loud to admit of sleep. 

165 



i66 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

It was the land of sour musli, a few beans and 
honey beer, — the Bachokwe country or the hinter- 
land of Africa's rich Province of Angola. Nor 
could we get plenty of the sour mush. The natives 
sold us at an exorbitant price very small quantities 
of the cassava meal of which we made the mush. 
Their whole attitude was sullen, defiant and sus- 
picious. 

The meal is made from the cassava, or manioca, 
tuber. There are two kinds of cassava, the bitter 
and the sweet. The bitter has in it more or less 
Prussic acid and serious cases of poisoning have come 
from eating it raw. The natives cultivate the bitter 
almost exclusively in that interior region. Possibly 
they hope some of their slave-raiding enemies will 
eat thereof and die. 

In order to use the bitter cassava, the women first 
soak it for eight or ten days, which seems to take 
out all the poison. And though there are plenty 
of clear, running streams of water in that country, 
the natives rigidly eschew them for the soaking proc- 
ess and select some miry place or stagnant pool 
from which there is emitted a never-to-be-forgotten 
pig-sty odour which proclaims a cassava patch long 
before it can be seen. Drawing near, one may see 
the surface covered with a green slime and large bub- 
bles which tell of the fermentation going on below. 

Often as we marched along, we could see the al- 
most naked women wading in these pools, sometimes 
standing to their thighs in the mud, taking out the 
buried roots, peeling off the outer bark and placing 
them in large baskets skillfully poised on their 
heads. At such times the stirring up of the waters 




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A HAND GRIST MILL 



The Land of Sour Mush 167 

makes the smell more pronounced and lessens the ap- 
petite for the supper which will have undergone the 
same preparatory treatment. 

Coming to a kraal, we may see the cassava in the 
next process of drying as it lays spread out on the 
roofs of the squalid huts where all the dust of an ex- 
ceedingly unsanitary village blows upon it the while 
rats, lizards and chickens race over it at will. 

And somewhere in that same kraal, standing near 
a hut or rolling around in the dirt among the dogs, 
pigs, goats, fowls and children, is the village mortar 
in which the dried root will be pounded into flour. 

There was one scientific straw to which we desper- 
ately clung, — that boiling kills all germs, thus saving 
us from the ravages of the bacilli, schizomycetes, bac- 
teria, or other rampant microbes which undoubtedly 
lodged in our dirty food and ofttimes equally dirty 
water. 

But though encouraging from a scientific stand- 
point, the method of cooking did not increase its gas- 
tronomic properties. First the water was brought to 
a boil in the large pot and then the flour was sifted 
in and stirred vigorously with a big stick until the 
mass was so thick that it could hardly be stirred. 
Surely the last germs could not be boiled but we 
hoped that they were steamed into a state of inof- 
fensiveness. If, however, any did have enough vital- 
ity to revive, we prayed that they might be peace- 
ably disposed. 

Hunger is a specific remedy for Epicureanism. And 
we were hungry. We were none of us Epicureans 
either. But when that big, grayish ball with a con- 
sistency of African rubber and smelling like a mass 



i68 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

of decayed vegetables in the garbage can came be- 
fore us, it took more tlian an ordinary appetite to get 
it down. 

It took skill too. A reasonably-sized chunk was 
dipped into half-cooked bean soup, then popped into 
the mouth and swallowed without chewing. To hes- 
itate was to be lost, verily. Once the teeth got into 
the sticky ball, there was trouble. 

Any kind of soup or gravy would have served the 
same lubricating purpose. It was not a matter of 
choice on our part that we had only bean soup night 
and morning for weeks. Necessity gave birth to no 
inventions that time. The game of the country had 
been practically exterminated by the natives who 
were armed to a man with flint-lock guns bought 
from the Portuguese. There were but few domestic 
animals in the kraals and the exorbitant prices asked 
for them were simply prohibitive for us. 

So we sat down to our sour mush every morning 
and struggled with a big slice of the sticky stuff, 
dipped it into the chocolate-coloured bean puree and 
gulped it down with the satisfaction that it was won- 
derfully nutritious and strengthening and that we 
would surely need all we could possibly eat in order 
to walk ten or twelve, perhaps fourteen, miles before 
we ate our frugal, cold lunch. 

Every evening we sat down to our soap box table 
and gave thanks in sincerity for that which was to us 
life and health. True, our stomachs fairly flopped 
over at the sight and smell of it, but it kept us from 
starving and we were thankful to have it. 

But no one can imagine how thankful we were, 
when we reached Angola, to get bread and butter, 



The Land of Sour Mush 169 

even rancid, tinned butter again. And yet, — we 
shall eat the sour mush again. Not with jam, — 
heaven forbid ! But we would rather, if necessary, 
go back and live on the sour mush than remain in 
America living on the fat of this fattest land in the 
world, knowing that out yonder tens of thousands of 
souls are starving, dying in heathen darkness, un- 
reached by any Christian voice or hand. 



XXXII 

SOUR MUSH AND SWEET JAM 

WE had had a surfeit of swamps. We had 
waded swamps, cold, frosty, deep swamps 
in the morning ; slimy, boggy, sluggish, 
fetid swamps at the noonday j often more swamps in 
the afternoon ; and again slumpy, humpy, noisome, 
stagnant, miry swamps just at the close of the day^s 
trek. 

Such was the case on the ever-to-be-remembered 
day of sour mush and sweet jam. After twenty-two 
miles we had decided to camp at the first water and 
accordingly picked out a nice sheltered spot under 
some large trees only to find it was a native grave- 
yard. That wouldn't do. So we looked about for a 
better place and found another swamp just ahead of 
us and boldly determined to cross it then and there 
rather than in the cold of the morning. 

But on the other side there seemed not a tree in 
sight for fire -wood or shelter and we spent a good 
half hour hunting for that necessary commodity 
wherewith we might cook our frugal sour mush sup- 
per. In the search we left the main trail without 
cutting it off with a mark or a bunch of fresh leaves 
to let our carriers who were far behind know where 
we had stopped. When we did think of it, it was 
too late. Already more than half our men had 
missed us and gone by on the trail we had left. 

170 



Sour Mush and Sweet Jam 171 

Then we took account of stock for no amount of 
search and halooing brought any response from the 
missing carriers. We had fifty pounds of cassava 
meal, a box in which were some jam and cheese, two 
jack-knives, two teaspoons, a wash-basin, one small 
tent and a few blankets. Our eight Angoni carriers 
had the only cooking pot of any description. It was 
their own and to my certain knowledge had not been 
washed for two months. 

Travel on the veld discourages sestheticism as well 
as Epicureanism. We were thankful that there was 
even the sour mush, the jam and the kaffir pot. If 
the pot still bore the remnants of two months^ cook- 
ings, why the water from the swamp drained one 
graveyard as we knew and perhaps dozens of others 
where ignorance was bliss. It isn't practical to dwell 
upon such matters. After all, we can die but once 
and as Livingstone said, " We seem to be immortal 
until our work is done.'' 

So when the Angoni had finished cooking their 
supper, Benjamin did his best to wash out the pot 
with the limited supply of dirty water on hand and in 
due season brought us the big grayish, sour-smelling 
ball, with which we had grown familiar, in the wash- 
basin. We ate it with the use of the two jack-knives 
and the two teaspoons. 

Shades of sauerkraut and sweet preserves ! Only 
sauerkraut is accommodating enough to slip down 
one's throat without sticking and the sour mush 
won't. It had to be lubricated with the jam. 

We ate it and ate heartily for we were hungry and 
we encouraged each other that it wasn't half bad. 
Indeed, it might have been much worse. If we had 



172 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

had no jam how could we have ever eateu the mush ? 
And that would have been lots worse. 

We ate close by the fire of the one log we had 
found and then wrapped ourselves in all the cloaks 
and rugs and blankets we could find to keep us warm 
through the half-wakeful night wherein we were con- 
scious of a mixture of sour mush and jam in the 
epigastric region. 

With the morning, came another large ball of sour 
mush and the remnant of a tin of jam. We looked 
at it and then at each other. There was a tramp of 
twenty miles or more ahead of us and we could not 
afford to start out on empty stomachs. But we were 
all unitedly and individually agreed that our stomachs 
were not empty. Surely the sour mush and sweet 
jam of the night before was all there and nature 
rebelled against insult being added to injury. 

Just then we heard a wild whoop and looking around 
saw one of the lost carriers. Those who had gone on, 
went three miles ahead, and then finding that they 
had missed us, turned back and the irony of it was 
that they had slept not more than a five minute walk 
ahead of us. 

It is, indeed, a blessed thing that a man^s life con- 
sisteth not in the abundance or the lack of the things 
which he has to eat. It is even better to have a diet 
of sour mush and sweet jam in the path of duty 
than the table of the Epicure and not know the joy of 
taking the Bread of Life to famishing souls. 



THE SOUL OF A CHICKEN 

WE had liad a twenty-two mile trek on the 
7tli of August. Our course had led over 
and along three high ridges of land with 
the necessary going up and down between, so that we 
were a tired caravan when we reached Kapungu^s 
kraal about four that afternoon. 

The people were still Bachokwe though we were 
getting near the borders of the Songo country where 
we were hoping to get better treatment than among 
the surly and sullen Bachokwe. To our surprise here, 
Kapungu came out to our camp in person to give us 
a hearty welcome and a present of a fowl and some 
meal while the people were effusively warm in their 
greetings. It was hard to say which was the most 
embarrassing, the defiance of the rest of the tribe or 
the suspicious effusiveness of these. 

They assured us they were delighted to see us and 
would show us the only place thereabouts that we 
could possibly camp where we could be handy to the 
water. Was there not a place beyond their kraal 
where we could get water? Nay, they were sorry to 
assure us there was none for a long, long distance. 

We had made it an unbroken rule up to the pres- 
ent to always camp on the farther side of a kraal. 
There are several advantages in so doing, one being 
that if trouble should arise with the natives during 

173 



174 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

the night, escape would be much easier. This time 
the plausibility of the lies and the fact that we were 
all so weary that further investigation seemed impos- 
sible made us the more easily taken in. 

For a while all went well. The women brought 
out more food than we had seen for a long time and it 
really seemed as if our men would get a full supper, 
even though back of all the protestations of friend- 
ship there was a disposition to extort outrageous 
prices. Moreover, we soon discovered that many of 
the men were partly intoxicated, a fact that made us 
not a little uneasy at once. 

In the midst of the buying, a man came rushing up 
saying that one of our carriers had killed his chicken. 
Mr. Springer asked the offender how it happened. 

^ ' It was this way, ' ' he went on to explain. ^ ' I was 
cutting down some fire- wood, and just as I was bring- 
ing my axe down, the chicken popped its head out 
from under the log but I couldn't stop quick enough 
to save if 

It was a lame tale and might have been humorous 
at another time. It was serious now and the man 
received a severe reprimand while the owner of the 
half-grown bantam was offered two yards of cloth, 
worth in that district at least fifty cents. He rejected 
the cloth at once : that could not begin to pay his 
loss. His dead brother's spirit was in that fowl and 
he could not be compensated by such a small amount 
of cloth for the insult done to his brother's ghost. 

Mr. Springer appealed to the chief. ^' Isn't this 
the right amount for me to pay your man ? " he asked. 
The chief said it was all right. After that of course 
he would pay no more. Still the native kept up his 



The Soul of a Chicken 175 

complaint until Mr. Springer asked the chief, "Is 
your brother's spirit in the cock you gave me? '' and 
there was a general laugh. Every one knew that 
the talk about his brother's spirit was all nonsense, 
merely an excuse for extortion. 

The wrangling broke up the buying. Finally all 
the men took themselves off to their kraal and dark- 
ness fell. A little later we heard women's voices 
among our carriers whom we had instructed to camp 
close to our tent that night as we feared foul play. 
Mr. Springer went to them at once and ordered the 
women away. They said that they had merely come 
down to sell a little more food. He replied it made 
no difference and gave orders that if any women were 
seen thereabouts, the carriers were to let him know at 
once. For this is a trap too often set for unwary car- 
avans. 

The situation that night was the most serious of any 
night on the trail, so far as we knew. The natives 
were drunk, they were treacherous, they were mani- 
festly trying to find an excuse to plunder us of what 
little trading "goods we did have and they had led us 
to camp where we should have to go through their 
kraal in order to pursue our journey. Every male in 
the kraal was armed with a gun, so if we were to pass 
through with our lives, it must be by some other 
force than our three rifles. So we prayed. 

About midnight, I heard a stealthy step near the 
tent and wakened my husband. We listened with 
bated breath as the steps softly approached the front 
of the tent and then moved away. Looking out, he 
saw one of our carriers going off with a steamer chair 
while on the other side of the path, the camp-fires 



176 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

were burning brightly and the natives were all astir. 
Going out to find the cause of the disturbance (we 
had slept in our clothes that night in case of an at- 
tack) he found the foes were none other than an army 
of red ants which had turned half of the caravan out 
of their quarters. These red soldier ants are much 
smaller and more vicious than their large black 
brothers. Burying their mandibles in the flesh, they 
will not let go even though their heads are torn from 
their bodies and the torture of their bites is madden- 
ing. 

Fortunately the army did not cross the path that 
night and those of us on the upper side were left in 
peace. 

The next morning at four o'clock our camp was 
quietly awakened and silently made ready for the 
trail. Just as the first gray streaks of dawn showed 
in the sky, our caravan glided silently through the 
kraal, leaving the disputed chicken lying under a 
tree with the two yards of cloth. Some of the vil- 
lagers were awaking but no opposition was made to 
our departure and we took a long breath of relief as 
we got away. 

We had no guide so had to follow the compass to 
the next kraal seven miles away over a very rough, 
mountainous trail. As we entered the kraal, my 
husband exclaimed in an undertone to me as I came 
up to him, ^^ There's the man and his chicken ! '' 
Sure enough ! There on a stone in the centre of the 
kraal were the fowl and the two yards of cloth. 
Near by sat the owner and around him were a half 
dozen men whom he had called for counsel. This 
looked even more serious than ever. 



The Soul of a Chicken 177 

Mr. Springer at that point became hopelessly 
stupid. He utterly failed to understand anything 
that the complainant said to him. Apparently he 
thought the man had had some scruples against tak- 
ing the cloth and keeping the fowl. He would set 
his tender, conscientious heart at rest on that point. 
So in the most benignant way, he answered all that 
was said with the words, " That's all right ; you can 
keep the fowl and the cloth too. I'm perfectly will- 
ing that you should eat the fowl if you wish." 

Again and again the old rascal would try and state 
the serious side of his case to win the superstitious 
sympathy of his tribesmen only to be interrupted 
with the irrelevant assurance that he was welcome to 
eat the fowl. At last the apparent idiocy of the 
white man appealed to the risibles of a graceless 
young buck who knew the old man's pretended piety 
was all a humbug, and he laughed outright. This 
broke the spell and we felt the danger was over. By 
this time all of our carriers were at hand and had laid 
down their loads to hear the end of the matter. 

Mr. Springer now arose and gave the order for 
them to pick up their loads and march which they 
did with amazing alacrity and we got out of that 
kraal as fast as we could without showing the fear 
that we felt. 

A shouting soon halted us. The owner of the fowl 
was running after us calling us to stop. At first we 
paid no attention but he kept shouting, ^^ You're on 
the wrong trail, you're on the wrong trail." He 
then showed us the right one which we followed, 
fearful that he might be leading us into some new 
trap. But he wasn't. Having found himself com- 



lyS Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

pletely outwitted in his little game of blackmail, he 
showed the African's good-natured acknowledgment 
of his defeat and was ready to do us a good turn at 
once; an excellent illustration of, *^ half-devil and 
half-child.'^ 



XXXIV 

JOHN WEBBA 

IT might have been twenty years ago, for the 
natives of Africa have no way of keeping track 
of the passing years, that there was a great 
commotion in a little village far up on the Congo 
Kiver. A trial for theft had been held and the theft 
proved. Now the law of that tribe required that 
the thief should restore fourfold, 

A caravan passing down the river loaded with 
ivory and rubber had seen a pig which had strayed 
farther from the native village than was safe for a 
black, razor-backed porker. It is safe to say that 
the said razor-back was eaten bristles and all, no 
part of him being wasted nor undue time spent in 
the cooking. 

But retribution followed swiftly and now the 
guilty men were condemned and payment demanded 
of their chief. He was not a cannibal— not in the ac- 
cepted sense of the word though he would not have 
hesitated to eat an enemy who had fallen in battle, 
and, very likely, had done so. But not to the extent 
that he would deliberately kill and eat a slave. In 
settlement for the stolen pig he decided to give one 
slave instead of the four pigs. For charity's sake, 
we will believe that he hadn't the pigs. 

The name of the little slave was Yweba, aname which 
few Europeans could pronounce and so in time they 

179 



i8o Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

called him Webba, just as our good friend Spears 
called Tsaranamayi Sammie Myers, because it was 
easier. 

Yweba was but a lad of perhaps ten years of age 
that morning when his fate was sealed and they took 
him away from his mother and his brothers and sis- 
ters. He wept loudly and clung to his mother until 
they dragged him away from her, while she followed 
after him along the path with bitter wailing until 
the men turned around and drove her back. It was 
the last time they ever saw each other and the heart- 
rending scene burned itself into the child's brain, 
never to be forgotten. 

All day they walked until the tender-footed child 
who had only played about the kraal was hardly able 
to proceed further. But in that country a man had 
no mercy on his own son, much less on a slave, and 
so the poor little creature was driven forward in spite 
of his swollen, blistered feet. The result was that 
one foot subsequently ulcerated and for weeks it 
looked as if the child would lose his leg, if not his 
life. But after many months, the sore gradually 
healed though it left a slight lameness that would go 
with him through life. 

This misfortune did not, be assured, endear the 
slave to his master who was a most calloused brute. 
He hated the boy for his affliction. It looked to him 
like a dead loss. 

Three or four years passed and then a missionary 
went to live at Isangila, some ten miles away from 
this man's kraal. Now the missionaries were consid- 
ered at that time a fool lot, though the time came 
when the suffering tribe came to regard these same 



John Webba l8l 

missionaries as their only friends. So this man took 
his slave to the mission and left him to work for the 
missionary who paid the chief about two dollars' 
worth of cloth a year for his services. 

There were fourteen other boys at the mission, but 
Yweba outshone them all in his studies. It did not 
take much effort to do that either. But he was really 
a very bright boy, and what was stranger still, honest 
and reliable. None of these things were character- 
istic features of the Bafiote. 

Yweba had been three years at the mission when I 
first saw him. He was my cook and native teacher. 
Every day he spent one or two hours with me teach- 
ing me the Kifiote. All went well for months and 
then there came on an epidemic of stealing which 
spread throughout the boys' school like the measles 
or whooping-cough. Yweba withstood the tempta- 
tions set before him by the other boys for a long 
time, but at last yielded to their sneers, and ate one 
stolen egg. 

From that time on, he was perfectly miserable. 
He knew the other boys were stealing, for not seldom 
they came into his cook-house to fry their stolen 
eggs. He grew careless and stupid in the school- 
room and his cooking was utterly degenerate. We 
could not imagine what was the matter. He never 
smiled any more and always looked sullen and angry. 
At last it all came out and Yweba confessed with 
a glad heart. He was greatly relieved when the 
teacher knew everything. But while this was un- 
doubtedly a relief, it did not take away the moral 
burden which had been laid upon him. He con- 
tinued to wallow in the Slough of Despond. 



l82 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

One bright moonliglit evening, as we sat out on 
the veranda of the tiny grass house which we called 
home, viewing the majestic sweep of the river as it 
roared past and down over the Isangila Falls, we 
called Vweba to us and his teacher gave him a tender, 
loving heart-to-heart talk after which we had a season 
of prayer. Then Vweba prayed. Such a simple, 
childlike prayer, which I shall never forget ! 

" Oh, Lord,'' he prayed, ^ 'I'm so sorry I stole and 
lied. I want you to forgive me. But I can't stop 
lying and stealing of myself. Won't you take all the 
lie and the steal out of my heart for the sake of Jesus 
who is our Saviour? " 

The next morning I caught sight of a figure run- 
ning past the house early in the morning. It was 
Vweba, whom I had not seen run for weeks. He 
was running now with a firebrand in his hand towards 
the kitchen. On his face was the radiance which 
comes only from within. 

*^ How is it with you, Vweba ? " I asked as soon as 
an opportunity was afforded for asking. 

^'Oh, I'm so happy!" he exclaimed. "I felt so 
badly when I left you and the master last night. I 
went to the boys' hut and laid down and tried to 
sleep but I couldn't, for I was so wretched. Then 
after all the other boys fell asleep, I got up and 
prayed. I just opened my heart and the happy 
came in. I know Jesus has forgiven me." 

He had opened his heart to Jesus and the happy 
came in ! And the happy shone out through his face 
which glowed with his new-found joy. He wanted 
to be baptized at once and arrangements were made 
for this when there came an unexpected setback. 



XXXV 

TRIED AS BY FIRE 

AS soon as Vweba ^'received tlie happy back 
into his heart," he began to tell his expe- 
rience and try and persuade others to enter 
into the same joy. This effort was met by some of 
his schoolmates with ridicule, others said they would 
think about it, while a few were openly hostile. In 
some way the word soon reached the chief's ears. 

It was about a week later when the chief appeared, 
having two or three men with him all armed with 
their guns. They demanded an interview with the 
missionary at once, even though he were sick with 
fever. They were in a most unreasonable and un- 
reasoning rage. The missionary tried to bring them 
to calmness and talk sense with them, but they were 
too excited for anything but fierce denunciations and 
angry threats. Then his Norse blood was aroused 
and, sick as he was, he rose up and gave them to un- 
derstand that they could not frighten him by any of 
their threats of, personal violence. Moreover, he 
wanted them to clearly understand another thing, 
and that was that they were not to do Vweba any 
harm. He would not yield to their demand that the 
boy leave the station. He was under contract to stay 
a year and they should not drag him off now. If 
they did any mischief whatever to the boy, he would 
— as an extreme measure — inform Bula Matadi. 

183 



184 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

Then lie sank back exhausted and the cowardly 
Bafiote, seeing that he could not be intimidated, 
calmed down at once. 

Their next effort was to work on Yweba, which 
was more easily done. He did not fear for himself, 
but when his chief told him that unless he left the 
mission and came back to the kraal, he would come 
in the night and burn the grass house down over the 
missionary's head, the boy began to weaken. He 
dared not tell us what the chief had threatened and 
so gave us no little concern about himself when he 
began to beg that we would let him leave and go back 
to his master's kraal. 

It was only a few days, however, before his beloved 
teacher took the long last journey and through those 
dark days Yweba forgot all else than his devotion 
to the teacher's wife and baby who also went down 
close to those same gates of death, but did not enter. 
Subsequently they were taken down to Vivi and two 
other missionaries came to Isangila. 

Then the chief began to intimidate Yweba again 
insisting that the only thing that would prevent his 
burning the missionaries up alive in their house was 
for Yweba to return with him to the kraal. Had the 
missionaries known all this they would probably 
have done the unwise thing of interfering. They did 
not and were pained exceedingly when Yweba pleaded 
so hard to go that they could not refuse. 

The chief was triumphant. ^^Now," he said to 
his slave, ^^now, I'll show you to live as a heathen 
should live." 

It makes one shudder to think of the temptations 
which were set in that boy's way during the next 



Tried as by Fire 185 

nine months. There was the palm wine, the awful, 
indescribable, sensual devil dances, not to mention 
all the indecencies of daily kraal life. The three 
Hebrews of old had no hotter fire through which to 
pass. 

But God cares for His own. One day the chief de- 
cided that Yweba was strong enough now to carry 
loads on the trail and so sent him over to the govern- 
ment station with some other men to carry rubber and 
ivory down to Matadi. This caravan, for some rea- 
son, came to Yivi first, to the station where I had in 
the meantime been transferred, and I was surprised 
one day while sick with fever to see Yweba walk in. 
It was on this trip that he learned that the Yivi Mis- 
sion House was made of stone and so his chief could 
not burn it and during the next few weeks he made 
up his mind as to his course of action. 

The next time his chief sent him down with loads, 
the caravan went to their usual camping place three 
miles from Yivi down the river. Yweba turned over 
his load but did not wait for another. Seizing his 
opportunity, he slipped away and made for the mis- 
sion. There was no path he could follow and the 
jungle was almost impenetrable in places. Moreover 
he had to follow high precipices at a dizzy height 
above the roaring, rushing, seething, mighty Congo 
into which he would surely fall if he made a single 
misstep, to be eaten by the greedy crocodiles which 
swarmed its banks. 

He also had to force his way through ravines 
where tall trees, thick underbrush and great rocks 
made the place the haunt of the leopard and boa- con- 
strictors. Three white men have told me at different 



i86 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

times that this three miles was more to be dreaded 
than a sixty-mile trip to Isangila. 

But at last he succeeded in gaining his refuge 
though torn and scratched, bruised and bleeding. 

There were also at Yivi a brother and sister, Mal- 
afine and Sala, the latter a girl about twelve or thir- 
teen years of age. 

A year passed by during which there was a change 
of leaders in our mission work for Africa. That 
heroic man of God, Bishop William Taylor, so fre- 
quently called a second Paul, had reached the end of 
his active service. The Church and the world will 
need the perspective of a few decades to see that 
grand old man in his true light. How true it is that 
if a man have a hundred successes and one failure, as 
a rule the world sees but the one failure and forgets 
the many successes, just as a copper coin held close 
to the eye entirely obscures the most magnificent 
landscape. 

William Taylor had a vision of the great principle 
underlying God's plan for the extension and estab- 
lishment of the Gospel among all nations, the devel- 
opment in every land of a self-supporting, self-propa- 
gating church. He was not always able to work out 
the details of such a plan since his was the type of a 
seer, a prophet and an evangelist rather than that of 
a twentieth century business man. So his demon- 
stration of that plan, as far as his work in Africa 
was concerned, was perhaps faulty, and he failed to 
realize his great hopes. 

But he did accomplish the feat of drawing the 
attention of the whole civilized world to the prin- 
ciples and problems of self-support. He set men and 



Tried as by Fire 187 

churches thinking and many of these have solved the 
problem for themselves in local fields. It is as yet 
too early a date to say which of these methods is 
applicable everywhere, but the indications are that 
of necessity some tried and proved methods embody- 
ing these principles are being more and more gener- 
ally adopted. 

Bishop Taylor's scheme for establishing large in- 
dustrial centres is becoming more and more popu- 
lar. But his plan for his missionaries to have all 
things in common was not a success, though there are 
not a few Eoman Catholic and Anglican missions 
which are run on that plan. These, however, con- 
sist of celebate orders, and not of groups of families, 
which latter Bishop Taylor especially approved of 
in his missions. But even in these celebate orders, 
there are serious handicaps thereby. Moreover, his 
hope that the missionaries would soon be able to 
support themselves as well as their boarding pupils 
was not realized. But the large industrial centres, 
which were so strongly advocated by David Living- 
stone, and later by William Taylor, have been proved 
a great success in Africa. There is also a marked 
advance in the development of self-support among 
the converts in all foreign lands. And if the Chris- 
tian people at home could only be persuaded to give 
their money for the sending of double and treble the 
number of missionaries to the foreign field, instead 
of insisting on paying for the support of orphans, 
pastor-teachers and Bible-women, that desirable end 
would be hastened considerably. 

It is a remarkable thing that though William 
Taylor made the great stir that has almost revo- 



i88 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

lutionized missionary methods, yet it was left to other 
denominations to approach most closely to the ideal 
of self-support, the work in Korea under the Pres- 
byterians and of the Anglicans in Uganda being 
notable illustrations of the practical working out of a 
self-supporting plan. 

But this is a digression. It was about the time 
that Vweba made his last heroic break for liberty of 
conscience that Bishop Taylor was retired and Bishop 
Hartzell was elected in his place. And when the 
new Bishop made his first episcopal visitation to the 
Congo, he found Vweba and the girl Sala waiting for 
his coming in order to receive Christian baptism. 

They were baptized in the Congo, whose waters 
had been music to their ears from earliest childhood. 
That was a simple, picturesque and impressive scene 
on that 25th day of April, 1897. There were the 
little group of children, with Miss Hilda Larson, 
their devoted teacher, whose days of earthly service 
were already nearly numbered. Behind them rose 
the high, north bank of the river, almost sheer for 
about two hundred feet. In front of them was a mile 
of swift, swirling, eddying, yellowish river, mighty 
and dangerous, its opposite shore, also high and 
mountainous, veiled with a soft blue haze. Above 
the sky was overcast and dull, as was usual in the dry 
season, making it safe for the Bishop to stand there, 
his snowy head uncovered as an outward recognition 
of the Divine Presence. This was the first Christian 
baptism he had been privileged to perform in his 
new field of labour and it had for him more than the 
usual significance. It seemed to him a token that 
during his administration, the Great Father would 



Tried as by Fire 189 

give him thousands of other souls for his hire, thou- 
sands of other black diamonds for the Master's crown, 
— a token which has already come to pass. 

When the Bishop had completed his first tour of 
Africa and faced the fact that only $7,000 was allowed 
for the work in the entire continent, he consulted 
with the missionaries and with the powers that be, 
with the result that the Congo work and property 
were turned over to the Swedish Missionary Society, 
whose field was adjacent to ours. 

So Miss Larsen took the four children who were 
living at Yivi and went to Angola and took up her 
work at Quessua. Here they joined the church and 
it was only a day's march from here that I found 
them again. 



AFTER MANY DAYS 

THE long 1,500 mile trek across Africa from 
Broken Hill was near its end and we were 
now enjoying the fellowship of Christian 
workers. After so long a period travelling through 
unrelieved heathenism, we were the better able to 
appreciate the work done by those heroic men and 
women in Angola. 

It was near the close of the day as we drew near 
Nenzele and the sky was alight with all the splendour 
of a tropical sunset when my men carried me over the 
last miry stream and I saw coming towards me on 
the other side a beautiful young native woman. 

Could that lovely creature be Sala, the scrawny, 
homely little girl I left behind at Vivi twelve years 
before? I couldn't credit it. And yet who else 
should be coming out to meet my machilla ? Calling 
to my men to stop, I got out and this girl ran to me, 
threw herself into my arms exclaiming, in English, 
^^ My mother ! Oh, my mother ! " 

We walked up the hill together chatting in English 
over the wonderful experiences we had had, her neatly 
clad two-year-old boy running along at our side. At 
the top of the hill I saw a neat cluster of buildings 
and soon Yweba, a splendid, tall, manly fellow, came 
striding towards me with, ^' Well, bless the Lord ! If 
He hasn't given us to see our mother again ! I never 
thought we would have had this pleasure ! " 

190 



After Many Days igi 

His English was almost perfect and his wife's only 
a little less so. He spoke Portuguese quite as well. 
It was rather an amusing fact to all of us that we had 
all three forgotten the Kifiote in which we had con- 
versed altogether on the Congo and which was their 
native tongue. 

We went into their little mud and pole house like 
the one we ourselves had occupied at Broken Hill 
and the natives crowded around us to greet their 
teacher's white friends from afar. What a contrast 
these two were to the dirty crowd of half-clothed 
heathen to whom they had just come as ^^ foreign 
missionaries" ! The hut was so clean and so tidy. 
John Webba (for such he had been baptized) had 
built the house and furnished it by his own super- 
vision and helped with his own hands. There were 
two little beds he had made covered over with quilts 
of Miriam's handiwork. There was a small table 
covered with a clean, cheap cloth. As soon as we ar- 
rived, Miriam made lemonade for us in a clean glass 
pitcher and served it in spotless glasses of which they 
only had two. The three children stood or sat 
quietly around with bright eager faces, but too well- 
behaved to interrupt the conversation. It was simply 
wonderful to me to see how the inward change had 
wrought the outward. 

But what astonished me the most was the keen, in- 
telligent interest manifested by Webba in our trip 
across the continent. With true missionary spirit 
and zeal, his own heart had been burning for those 
untouched tribes in the interior, l^ow and then he 
had met Lunda, Songo or Bachokwe carriers who had 
come to Malange with their wax and rubber for sale. 



192 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

He had discovered that their language was not so 
different from the Kimbundu but that he could 
soon have made himself understood by them. He 
had been enquiring of them and the Wambundu 
concerning that interior country and moreover had 
been making that a subject of earnest prayer. 

He was now opening up new work among a new 
tribe, the Jingas, I think, who wore their hair in 
long curls down their backs. These curls were 
heavily laden with black clay and palm oil with 
which their scanty garments also seemed saturated. 
There was no mistaking them for anything else than 
dirty heathens. 

And here was this boy who had been a dirty 
little heathen himself only valued by his people as 
worth four pigs, as their missionary and teacher ! 

Yet it is thus the Gospel leaven works and must 
work. It is idle for us to talk about the necessity of 
thoroughly manning all the old fields before we open 
new ones. It can never be done. The Gospel seed 
must be scattered broadcast and a few of the natives 
trained to be leaders but the great work of evan- 
gelization must be done through the natives them- 
selves. Moreover, it must be done by self -supporting 
churches. 

We must care for the infant churches and not only 
teach them to walk but train them to work. But 
there is a danger sometimes that we hold them in the 
leading strings too long. Like our own offspring, 
the time must come for them to set up housekeeping 
for themselves and to assume their own responsibili- 
ties while we turn our efforts and money to the un- 
touched fields which remain. 



After Many Days 193 

Bishop Taylor failed to find self-support for his 
white missionaries on the Congo and the experience 
of nearly all missions has been to prove that with 
rare exceptions the foreign missionary cannot main- 
tain himself and at the same time effectively carry on 
his work for Christ in heathen lands. But the with- 
drawing more and more of foreign funds and the 
leading of native churches and primary schools to 
support their own pastors and teachers is steadily in- 
creasing in favour among missionaries although there 
is still a large minority which is in favour of raising 
all the support for native work in America and Eng- 
land. 

To our minds, this does not seem wise. In Africa 
the natives have great resources. They can always 
earn money and in most places they can make large 
wages working in the towns or in the mines. There 
are hundreds of cases of self-supporting native 
churches among all denominations in South Africa. 

Let us then no longer cry out that we must not 
open any more new fields until the old ones are thor- 
oughly evangelized but let us enter the open doors 
and in every tribe and nation spend the most of our 
energies in training up a band of Christian workers 
who in twenty or twenty-five years will be able to do 
far more than we can in propagating the Gospel. 

As we sat there looking at Webba and his wife, 
miracles of God^s power to save and to use the 
native, our minds ran back to that dark interior 
through which we had been passing. There among 
those savage, sullen peoples are hundreds of boys 
and girls who are ready to become shining witnesses 
of Jesus' love in even five years' time can they but 



194 Snap Shots From Sunny Africa 

have the chance. They would not be the polished 
products, nor the exceedingly able and competent 
workers that Webba and his wife are, but they 
would be quite ready for the work at their hands. 

^^Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields; for 
they are white already to harvest. . . . The har- 
vest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few ; 
pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that He will 
send forth labourers into His harvest." 

''And Jesus came and spake unto them saying, 
All power is given unto Me in heaven and in earth. 

''Go ye therefore and teach all nations^ baptizing them 
in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the 
Holy Ghost: teachiog them to observe all things 
whatsoever I have commanded you : and, lo, I am 
with you alway, even unto the end of the world.'' 



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